Along for the Rush
by henderlover
Summary: Ever since his parents' divorce, Kendall hasn't been sleeping at night, and has dreaded summers. It's now his last summer before college, and he has a chance to spend it in a beach town with his father and new step-family. In the town he meets James, a fellow insomniac, who will change Kendall and his summer forever. Based on Along for the Ride, by Sarah Dessen. Kames, AU.
1. The Summer Begins

**Hi guys! New story, I hope you'll like it. This is actually inspired and based on the story 'Along for the Ride', by Sarah Dessen. It's one of those cheesy romantic books, but it's actually quite good. Maybe you'll read it at some point, or you have read it. I'm throwing my own little twist on it though; it won't be a copy of the book I promise, some bits will be pretty identical…some won't. **

**So, naturally, I don't own anything, credits to Sarah Dessen. (Again, it won't be a copy of the book…I just don't want to get in trouble. Call me paranoid if you want.)**

**That being said, here we go.**

**Along for the Rush.**

**Chapter 1:**

* * *

The e-mails _always_ start the same.

**Kendall! How are you?**

What always pisses me off is the exclamation point. Whenever my mother reads them, she snorts at all the quirky and peppy punctuation and words—she claimed it was over exuberant, obnoxious, and irritatingly happy. That was just Mercedes though, and there was nothing we could do about it.

**We're really excited for the new baby. Did your father tell you we're planning on naming him/her something after you? If it's a girl, we're naming in Kenzie. A boy? Kenny. Isn't that great? **

**Everything at the store is going great—my employees have been so understanding of my absences, given the pregnancy and all. I'm sure they'd love to meet you, if you'd like to come down this summer. As usual, you're welcome to come! Seriously! Colby could use another Knight boy around!**

**Your father's been _uber_ busy on his photography and curating, they want him in the city some days of the week (sometimes it's hard for me). He's been great though; he's been working on the Nursery for a while now. Gosh, it looks great! The window looks right out to the beach! He/she will love it; I'm excited for her to come and see it! And you, you should come see it. Again, we'd _love_ to have you come.**

**We're also super excited for your graduation—only a few more weeks to go! Congrats on the valedictorian status, I swear the baby kicked me super hard on the inside when your dad announced it! At first we thought I was going into labor! :)**

**Anyways, we really hope you'll come down for the summer; you and your mom could come down!**

**Have a good last few weeks of classes, and we hope you're doing well!**

—**Mercedes, Jon, and the baby :)**

Reading letters from Mercedes was always like talking to a cheerleader—it was like she was right there with you screaming happy words into your ear. "No one should be that happy, Kendall, especially not with your father," I remember my mom telling me one day while reading an e-mail over my shoulder.

My parents divorced when I was eight. My mom predicted a couple years before my father remarried that it wouldn't be too long before my dad got together with a blonde chick almost half his age.

Her prediction was right.

My mom didn't like the woman my dad chose to marry. She came up with a fake excuse every time we were invited to something with the family, and insulted the blonde every chance she got.

Mercedes was twenty-six and having a baby—much like my mom was when she had me, but there was unmistakable differences between the two. My mom was a smart, independent and sophisticated woman. Mercedes was... Mercedes. A self-improvement woman, constantly keeping herself manicured, pedicured and highlighted, throw in a possible boob-job or two. My mom and I still haven't decided if that procedure had been implemented.

Mercedes also owned a store, we weren't exactly sure what type though. It could range from anything from a mechanic shop to a flower shop, with Mercedes we just did not know. My mom was a working woman too though, she was a college professor at a nearby university, she was always busy. Some nights she didn't even come home, she'd be working so late on finishing grading papers and projects. That's why it didn't matter to her that I was never home at night either.

A couple weeks after receiving the latest e-mail, I'm driving down the street to the local diner. It's already eleven-thirty. I always go to the diner at night when my mom's not around. I wrote all of my college applications there, still had one more to go. Thankfully it was a 24/7 diner—so I could sit there all night drinking coffee and writing the applications if I needed to.

Ever since my parents' divorce, I hadn't been sleeping at night. The two of them spent the nights shouting and fighting, keeping me awake. My biological clock eventually gave in to the arguments and reset so that I would sleep during the day when I could; and then stay up all night. The nights where they weren't fighting, they would both be out. I would wait for at least the one of them to come home. Some nights they didn't even come home, leaving me exhausted and worried.

"Elon University," the waitress hovering over me while pouring coffee into my mug spoke. She looked down at the unfilled application in front of me. "Do you think you'll get into this one?" She'd seen me writing so many different applications to different schools. Either she thought I hadn't been accepted to any and kept trying, or I was just a try-hard kid. It was the latter.

"I think so," I shrug. "It's not that difficult."

"Well," she smiles. "I like that confidence. You'll do fine."

I don't need her reassurance; I'm at the top of my class and have been offered scholarships at most schools I've been interested in. I thank her for the coffee and she leaves me alone—the usual routine for her and myself.

Occasionally a person or two will come in for some coffee, but by two o'clock I'm the only one around aside from the couple of waitresses watching the late night shows on the news channels on the small TV perched up on a shelf on a wall. I finish the application and put it in the envelope they sent, writing out my return address and everything necessary before sealing it and setting it down in front of me.

The waitress comes back over and offers me a smile, before pouring more coffee into my cup.

We both knew I'd be here I while.

* * *

Kenzie Caroline Knight was born the day before my graduation.

"I'm so sorry, Kendall," my dad sighs into the phone. "I hate to miss out on your speech." Eventually I understand the fact that I wasn't first priority anymore, a little baby is much more responsibility than an eighteen year old boy, and accept my father's apology and tell him, "Don't worry, send Mercedes my regards."

The next day, I graduate from high school, in my class of one hundred and seven students.

I can now tell people I graduated with a straight-A average, and was accepted to all of the schools I applied to, if anyone asked. Elon didn't even hesitate to send back the acceptance letter a short four days after I sent it in.

The night of graduation, after all of the graduation parties, I go home and immediately flop down on the bed with all of my acceptance letters, mulling through the school choices. Elon-U, UCLA, UNC, Boston College, Amherst. I sigh as I tuck them back under my bed, silently praying the summer would go by quickly.

* * *

Fourteen days of summer down. I've accepted my position as a student at Elon University—Class of 2016.

Despite actually doing things for the two weeks, summer still hasn't been moving fast enough for me. I've hung out with some friends a couple of times, and bought all supplies and dorm stuff for Elon in the fall.

Tonight I found myself at a friend's party, feeling completely out of place and tired of summer already. I leave early, getting home at about eleven thirty to flop on my bed and breathe. Alcohol and drugs were just not my thing.

"Knock knock," my mother walks in, sitting on the bed next to me. She's in a dress and some heels, just getting back from somewhere as well.

"Why are you all dressed up?" I ask.

"I went out with some colleagues, seeing as you didn't need me at your party," she says sarcastically and ruffles my hair while referring to all of the professors she works with. "And your brother sent one of his many girlfriends," she pauses to roll her eyes and hand me a package. "To give you this while we were out."

I look at it for a moment.

"Kevin sent this," I raise an eyebrow. My older brother never sent me gifts, he was always moving around the world—making it almost impossible to send him something in return.

"Indeed he did," she raises her hands, not understanding either. "Anyways, I went out to avoid seeing the new girlfriend," she air quotes the word 'girlfriend'. "I can't deal with the bitches he sends anymore. I'm so glad you're turning out better than he did," she sighs.

My mother openly didn't approve of Kevin's tendencies to travel around the world and meet new girls every week—send a new one home with letters telling us he was alive and well. My mom stands up and leaves me to the package and my thoughts. I sit up on the bed so I'm in a pretzel position on top of the comforters, looking at the box in my hands before sighing and opening it.

My hands fumble with the tape (packaging tape is _fucking annoying_ to deal with) and open the box, finding a bunch of bubble wrap and tissue paper. I finally dig out a picture frame, with a picture of my brother placed in it.

I snort as I look at the engraving on the bottom of the silver frame. In neat cursive writing it says:

"**Having some fucking fun."**

I chuckle as I look at the picture—Kevin standing in front of the leaning tower of Pisa in the distance. He's standing far enough away so that he could turn his body at an angle so it looked like the tower itself was emerging from his pants, right where his dick should be. I started to think about what else he would conquer over the summer, what places he'd visit and what foods he'd try, what girlfriends he'd create and then break up with. He was never really one to think ahead, but when it came to summers he always had a plan.

If I was being honest with myself, I had been thinking too much about graduating high school and beginning college throughout the year, but what was supposed to happen in between the two events? I looked down at the picture frame in my hands, smiling at Kevin again. I suddenly felt a pang of jealousy, that he was traveling all around the world and had weird and great experiences. Traveling seemed to have offered him some amazing opportunities. I can't help but wonder what might happen if I were to go somewhere, what opportunities might arise for me.

While I couldn't go to the leaning tower of Pisa and take funny pictures, or go to China or Egypt with someone random that I just met, I had somewhere I could in fact go.

I grabbed my laptop and opened up the e-mail Mercedes sent a couple weeks ago that I still hadn't responded to.

**Mercedes, I've considered your offer to come down to Colby, I'll be down tomorrow night to help out with the baby and everything.**

**Sorry for the late response, Kendall**

And with the click of a button,

My summer changed.

* * *

"Don't tell me you're actually going," My mom says when I find her in the kitchen in the morning.

"I am," I point to the suitcases I have sitting behind me, and the backpack lazily slung over my shoulder.

"Are you that eager to waste your summer with your step-mother?" my mom is heavily judging me right now, but she was in no position to criticize considering she was spending her time with other male college professors the night before. I ignored her question, grabbing a coffee mug out of the cabinet and stealing some of the leftover coffee she made.

"So what'd your brother send the new girlfriend with?" she was referring to the frame I got.

"A picture of himself in front of the leaning tower of Pisa," I smile as I think about how I tucked it under some clothing in my suitcase. If it weren't for that absurd picture, I wouldn't have been leaving today for a chance at refreshing my summer vacation.

"Ah, Italy," she nods, wrapping her hands around her own coffee mug tightly. "I would have never guessed he was there at this time of year, it attracts a lot of tourists over the summer. Much like the beach, which brings me back to my point. Why are you going?"

"Mercedes responded to my e-mail almost right away, saying I could stay as long as I wanted. No commitments. So if I hate it, I'll come back. And what am I going to do here? Wait for you to come home from your dates?" I tease.

"Hey, that's no fair," she smiles. "I'm obviously the dominant professor at these gatherings. There's no such things as dates in my book."

"Sure mom," I roll my eyes. "Do you think the girlfriend that dropped the gift off last night knows she probably won't see him ever again?" I wondered aloud.

"You never know, Kevin might have changed and the two are meeting back in Italy to get married next weekend," my mom smirks.

For a second after her statement, we give each other incredulous looks before losing it and cracking up.

"People don't change, Kendall," she concludes. "And that poor Mercedes chick has another thing coming to her if she really thinks your father is going to be helpful with that baby. She's lucky to have you coming down to help. Have fun, be careful." She comes over to kiss my forehead before stepping away. It was like she miraculously changed her views on me leaving—maybe she finally realized she was free to do whatever the hell she wanted without a kid around to judge her.

"Call me when you get there."

* * *

My father and Mercedes' house is just as you would expect it to be. It looks as if it were plucked right off of a movie set trying to capture the image of a typical house in a utopian society. The house is completely painted white, except for the green oak door in the front, at the top of a couple steps leading up to a porch.

I pull into the driveway, wondering how my dad would give in to such a house—it was so unlike him. Maybe he changed, maybe Mercedes' preferences around the house he lived in were at his best interest.

"_People don't change, Kendall," _my mom's voice rings through my head.

I knock on the door after managing to get my suitcases up the steps and on to the porch. There was no answer, so I knock again. My eye catches something at my feet, an orange post it note.

**Kendall—it's unlocked :)**

Holding on to the sticky note, I push the door open and drag my stuff in behind me.

"Hello?" I speak out into the silence, hoping someone might answer this time. Of course, I'm disappointed and hear no response.

"Hellooooo," I say a second time, moving further into the house. Much like the outside, everything is white except for the few green details.

"Kendall?" I hear a squeak of a voice out of nowhere.

"Mercedes? Dad?" I ask, hoping to hear the voice again.

"In the living room," I hear the squeaky voice again—definitely Mercedes.

I follow the voice into the large living room, immediately being hit by a refreshing breeze coming right off of the ocean through the open sliding doors.

"Mercedes?" I ask, not seeing her anywhere in the room.

"On the couch," I hear a mumble.

I step closer to the couch, not sure what I'm expecting. I finally set eyes on her. She's holding a sleeping Kenzie in her arms. She looks up at me, and I'm taken aback by her appearance. A tired, baggy and wrinkly one replaces her usually happy and energetic face.

"Kendall," she smiles weakly at me, rocking the baby around in her arms.

"Hi," I smile back, not sure of what to do.

"I'm sure Kenzie will be up any second," she sighs, looking down at the resting creature. "She barely spends any time sleeping." _Oh God, please don't curse little Kenzie with a sleeping disability like myself._

"How are you?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"I'm exhausted, to be honest. Having a baby is hard work."

"I can imagine," I can also imagine that my father isn't helping out with the baby.

"Your father is upstairs in his office," she nods her head towards the staircase behind me. "You're staying in the guestroom, if you wanna put your stuff in there before you talk to him or something."

"Thanks," I pick up my things and climb up the stairs, noticing all of the white and green in the house, as I keep moving.

"Dad?" I nudge the office door open with my foot to see my father hunched over his desk in a swivel chair observing a photo.

"Kendall!" he turns around and sets the photo down to stand up and give me a hug. It's been a while since I've seen him, so I hold back on the 'hello' and simply pat his back as he engulfs me in a bone-crushing hug. "Feel like I have seen you in weeks."

_It's been years. _I swallow any annoyance and anger to simply say, "It's been a while, yeah."

"Did you meet Kenzie?" he pulls away, grabbing my shoulders out of excitement.

"Sorta, she was sleeping," I shrug; it's not a big deal.

"God, Mercedes is having a little trouble with that. Kenzie's just like your brother was, always crying and never sleeping."

"I see, how's life being the father of a tiny baby again?" I inspect, hoping he'll list _some_ things he actually does to help.

"It's great, I love taking care of her," he flinches. _Liar._

"Okay," I clench my jaw, now officially annoyed with my father. Mom was right, he didn't change. He couldn't.

"Go get settled in, you have a couple hours to do whatever. And you can do anything you want in the guest room—you could paint it…put posters up, pictures, whatever. We're painting it again in the fall again.

I swallow and nod, leaving him to his business.

* * *

I wake up at around six-thirty, according to the green alarm clock set on the white wooden bedside table next to the bed. I put everything away into drawers and books on shelves, and opened the windows to feel the ocean breeze and listen to the tides rolling in. I was then left with nothing to do—or no interest to do anything else, except for sleep.

While sitting up to look out the window—almost as if I was making sure the ocean was there, and I was indeed in Colby at the moment, my ears tune in to a wailing baby. Not even wailing (she's way past that), _screaming. _I get up and walk into the hallway and down to the nursery, to find the door open. Mercedes is sitting in a rocking chair with Kenzie in her arms, giving her lungs a real workout. Kenzie's arms are flailing all around and she doesn't seem to be breathing in between screams.

Mercedes doesn't notice me standing in the doorway, she has her eyes locked on Kenzie's whispering "Shh, it's alright Kenzie…shh it's going to be okay."

I close my eyes when I hear this, remembering that familiar phrase. It takes me back to my eight-year-old self, crouching down against my bedroom door and covering my ears to block out the screaming and fighting of my parents down the hall. I would always whisper, "shh…it's okay Kendall…they love you, shh…it's going to be alright."

I shake the memory out of my head and walk down the other end of the hallway, trying to find my dad.

"Hey," I knock on the door, and close it behind me.

"What's up?" he doesn't take his eyes off of the new photo he's looking at.

"Should I get dinner going? I can cook something—"

"Mercedes isn't doing that?" he turns, his face with no expression on it.

"No, I think she's with the baby."

"Is she crying again?" he turns to set the photo down, giving me a chance to roll my eyes. _Are you deaf? Do your ears function? Are they attached to your head?_

He then turns back to me, with his full attention—as if not having dinner ready was a major concern of his. With my father, I'm not surprised. He's always been a little bit tubby, a 'food lover' as he liked to call it.

"If you're hungry, you could go down to that burger joint at the end of the street. The Rocque's café?"

"Sure," I shrug. I don't know about anybody else, but I'm starving. "Do you want me to get you—"

"I'll have the onion rings," he's smiling like a little girl.

"Does Mercedes usually get anything?" She's more important than both my dad and myself right now, the poor woman.

"Eh," my dad turns around again to his work. "You can ask her."

I roll my eyes behind his back _again _and walk back down to the nursery, the baby still crying—but not as loud as before. She must have gotten tired of the screaming.

"Mercedes?" I knock. She doesn't hear me, of course. "Mercedes?" I almost shout.

"What?" she looks up, startled.

"I'm going to get dinner—"

"What?" she shouts over the baby, leaning closer to me to hear.

"I'm going to get dinner! Do you want anything?" I shout as well, tired of competing with the baby.

"Oh," she leans back. "Get me whatever you're having!" she shouts, before looking back down at the baby and whispering her sweet nothings again. I nod and leave the room, not wanting to hear the words she whispered, the ones I used to use to calm myself down.

I walk into my room to grab my wallet and phone before changing my pants into shorts, and throw on my UCLA sweatshirt over my plain black t-shirt, knowing the beach got a little chilly at night.

"I'm going," I announce, knowing no one hears me leaving anyways.

* * *

My dad is right when he says that Rocque's cafe is right down the street. I can see the neon sign next to the streetlight on the corner, but there's a bunch of stores in between the house and the restaurant itself. My eyes scan each store. I pass a boutique, a book store, a little convenience store, all before I stop to look at a picture of my baby step-sister posted on the inside of a window of a little surf shop. I look at the name of the store, 'Inlet Outlet Surf Shop'. The picture of Kenzie says,

"**It's a girl! 7 pounds 11 ounces! Kenzie Caroline Knight."**

This must be Mercedes' store. I look in to see a girl with thick curly brown hair sitting on the counter at the register talking on the phone. She runs her fingers through her curls; tightly winding them and then letting them bounce away again. My eyes then land on a boy, a Latino with a cute mole on his chin. It takes me a while to scan the store—seeing it's a surf apparel kind of store, with both boards and surf-brand clothing. _I didn't know Mercedes was a surfer._ Then again, it was mentioned that she grew up on the beach in an e-mail at some point.

"I'm just saying it needs to be named something awesome. And energetic," I hear a male voice down the street. I look away from the store and keep walking, towards the voices.

"No shit, Jett," I lay eyes on two boys, sitting outside of a bike shop.

There's a boy with dark hair with dirty blonde strands—like he spent too much time in the sun.

"Thank you, Dak," he says to the boy who said 'No shit,' before. So he must be Jett. "Okay… How about Overdrive bikes?"

"No," Dak groans.

"Fine. How about we call the store…" Jett starts, and stops to think. "I just saw the hottest boy in Colby walk by?" I lift my eyes up to see who he was talking to, to notice his eyes are locked on mine. I feel my face heat up as he smirks at me; he was definitely talking to me.

"Jesus, you're pathetic," Dak laughs, and Jett laughs along. I drop my eyes again, blushing harder now and walking into the restaurant. Sure, I've had crushes before, but not openly admitted. I've had plenty of people who've liked me, but they weren't exactly my type. They were _girls._

"Could I have some onion rings, two cheeseburgers and two chocolate milkshakes, one vanilla please?" I order at the register once I get inside—wanting to get back the house to my room as soon as possible, away from Jett and any source of embarrassment. The girl at the register takes my money and hands me all of the food after a couple minutes. I thank and tip her, before leaving.

Jett is still outside, but the Dak kid is gone. Jett is now talking to a brunette boy with pale skin and spiked up hair.

"Hey, UCLA!" Jett doesn't let me go by unnoticed as he addresses my sweatshirt. I look up, to see the spiked-hair boy glaring right at me.

"If you're looking for something to do tonight, meet me at the Tip at eight," he raises an eyebrow. The boy he was talking to is still glaring at me, trying to stab me with the deep brown eyes in his sockets. I remain quiet; deciding if I spoke the boy would actually attack me.

"Ah, you're the heartbreaking type," Jett smirks—accepting a challenge. "I'll wait for you there."

I keep walking, considering his request. Maybe I could go out, just to observe the teenage nightlife in Colby on a typical weeknight. I can still feel the one boy's death glare poking at my back, in between my shoulder blades.

The paper bag filled with food is getting hot in my hands, so I make a point to walk faster back to the house before the greasy food burned my skin through the bag, also to get away from the kid who wanted to hurt me.

"I'm back," I announce. My dad is waiting at the dinner table with a newspaper in his hand, a plate and napkin out for only himself. I pull all of the food and drinks out, and shake out the mustard and ketchup packets on to the table.

"Does Mercedes want to come down or should I bring it up?" I ask. My dad doesn't look up from his newspaper, but mutters "Yeah sure, sounds great."

"No, Dad," I wave my hands to get his attention. "Should I bring Mercedes her food?"

"Oh, right, sorry," he folds up the newspaper and reaches for an onion ring. "You could do that, I'm sure she's with the baby." I arrange Mercedes' plate for her and go upstairs to the nursery. She looks up at me, eyes bloodshot and wet. Kenzie is of course freaking out, as usual.

"I brought you your food," I set it down on the dresser before taking a step closer and looking down at my baby step-sister and helpless step-mom.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong," Mercedes breaks down in tears. "She's fed, changed, everything. I don't get it," she sobs. I feel a little awkward standing and watching as she cries.

"I don't know much about babies, but apparently Kevin was just like this," I refer to all of the stories I heard about my older brother. "I think the term was fussiness. It'll stop soon, she just needs to learn to self soothe or something like that."

"Fussiness?" she sniffles. "But I've done everything that I can think of—Oh god, Kendall I'm sorry. You don't want to hear about this." I shrug.

"You should go down to the Tip tonight, all of my girls and boys at the shop go at night. I did when I was your age," she smiles weakly at the memories, sniffling more. I nod, seriously considering again.

"I might," I shrug. "Are you sure you'll be alright?" I ask her. She wipes her cheek with her free hand, the other arm cradling the baby.

"Yeah, thank you for the food," she smiles. "Just promise me you won't let me or the baby stop you from doing anything fun this summer?"

"Sure," I smile back. It's not completely sincere, but I try to be nice about it.

I hop back down the stairs, and find my dad almost finishing off the onion rings.

"Is she okay?" he asks, looking up at me while dipping an onion ring in ketchup and bringing it to his mouth.

"Not really, the baby's still crying," I sigh.

"I'd better go check in," he disappears up the stairs.

_Finally._

I glance at my phone screen—telling me it's seven thirty. I have half an hour to make a decision. After a while of thinking, I shove a bunch of fries down my throat and then put the burger in the fridge—I'll save it for later.

I leave the house with my phone and wallet, and walk down the familiar street past Rocque's and the bike shop, where Jett was outside before. All of the shops are closed—the teenage workers gone and undoubtedly at the Tip already.

I pass all of the stores and the café, and make my way to the sandy end of the boardwalk at the street.

I'm at the Tip.

* * *

**What did you all think?  
Please review and tell me if it's good enough/interesting enough that I should continue it :)**

**Thank Youu!**

**xx**

**Sarah**


	2. A Long Night

**So you guys liked the first chapter! I guess I'll continue it then ;)**

**Just an announcement; I don't know what updating patterns will be like for a while. I'm going to be super busy for a while over the next two and a half weeks, so I hope you can understand if I don't update for a long period of time… anyways.**

**special thanks to all who reviewed, including Kamesluv315, Hikari no Kasai, KEALY KAMES, amrice101, Kendalls LogieBear, RammyNeedsAName, shadybaby, XxxAnimaniacxxX, Love and Heartz.**

**Here you go :D**

**Chapter 2:**

* * *

The Tip.

Apparently it's the epitome of teenage life here in Colby. Everyone's here, drinking out of his or her red solo cups, chatting around a bonfire. I even see the girl that works at Mercedes' store, with the thick Curly brown hair. I did a full three-sixty scope. There was the bonfire, a bunch of teenagers, and a keg of beer sitting on the back of an open pick-up truck trunk.

"On your left!" I hear someone shout before I almost get knocked over by an idiot on a bike. As soon as he stops and hops off, I recognize him as Dak, the one outside the bike store with Jett. My eyes scan around for Jett, seeing as he's one of the reasons I even showed up. He was cute—but something deep in my gut told me there was something off about him.

My gut almost got the best of me, and I turned around only to walk straight into a tall tan boy with hazel eyes and a shockingly attractive face. He's wearing a worn out purple hoodie with a pair of skinny jeans.

"Sorry," I mutter, a blush creeping on to my face. He smirks before nodding, as if I owed him the apology. Our eyes stay connected for a while, before we're interrupted.

"Hey, UCLA!" I hear a familiar voice. I turn away from the tall boy, to find Jett making his way towards me. A bunch of girls and the boy I saw earlier with the spiked up hair and brown eyes are shooting me disapproving glares as soon as Jett is standing in front of me.

"I didn't think you'd actually show up," he smirks, shoving a hand in his windbreaker pocket, while holding his cup of keg-beer in his other hand. "I guess I sorta knew you couldn't resist me."

"I can resist you," I tease, thinking of my mom and the ways she flirted with the college professors openly. She always played hard to get—maybe it's something I could try. Maybe she'd even be proud of me for once.

"Ah, that's cause you haven't even gotten a load of Jett's moves, no one can resist…what was your name again?"

"Your moves?" I snort. "It's Kendall, by the way." Jett seems to be loving the 'hard to get moves' I had of my own, leaving me quite pleased by myself.

"Can I get you a beer?" he raises his plastic cup.

"I can get my own beer," I raise an eyebrow. "Just point me the way."

This isn't so hard.

* * *

"What the fuck is your deal?"

It was a loaded question; I couldn't answer it as I gathered my shirt and sweatshirt off of the sandy ground behind the dunes. I still couldn't answer it as I pulled the clothes on and ran back to the bonfire, leaving Jett behind.

I watched as disapproving eyes followed me, all the way out to the street. My eyes stung as I let tears fill them up all the way back to the house. It was almost ten thirty; I'd let Jett talk to me and manipulate me for more than two hours. _What the hell was I thinking?_

As I showered I let myself cry, the night's events replaying in my head.

"_Hey, do you want to see something cool?" Jett says before taking my hand in his and leading me away from the fire and towards the dunes._

"_Where are we going?" I ask stupidly. Worry struck me deep in my stomach, twisting it into knots. __**Oh come on, Kendall. Have some fun.**_

That was my dumbest mistake. I let him take me. I let myself do it—I knew it would happen.

"_You can see the lighthouse the best from back here," he leads me behind the dunes, out of sight from anyone else. It was just the lighthouse, the dunes, the ocean, and the two of us._

"_Wow, you're right, it's amazing back here," I say, actually amazed by the large lighthouse sitting only a hundred or so feet away from us._

"_You know what else is amazing?" he asks, looking at me. I keep my eyes on the lighthouse before saying, "What is?"_

"_The fact that in all my years here—I've only met one guy with those eyes," I turn and look straight at him, and his lips hitting mine quickly take me aback. "Those perfect green eyes," he mumbles against my lips. We eventually fall slowly on to the ground. __**Kendall…This is so not you.**_

I hit my fists against the tiled wall of the shower stall—hating myself for even leaving the house in the first place.

_Jett is slowly peeling off clothing layers, the cold beach air hitting the newly exposed bits of skin. __**Okay, no more. **__I try to push him off, but the kisses he places against my neck distract me from any objecting thoughts. Soon, my sweatshirt is off, and he's slowly tugging at the hem of my shirt, pulling it off of my torso. It takes the sandy and gritty ground grinding against my back to snap me back to reality._

"_Jett, get off," I push him off, standing up._

_"Why?" he groans, lips still attached to my collarbone._

"_What the fuck is your deal?"_

Once out of the shower I put on sweatpants and flop down on my bed, pulling out a handbook on Elon, and the guide to one of my classes. The guide is appropriately called: _411 on Elon Econ. 101. _I crack open the book after glancing at the time, (11:00). It only takes twenty minutes for my vision to be blurred by tears again, making it hard to focus—let alone read the guide. I don't know what I was thinking tonight, the normal Kendall wouldn't have let Jett manipulate him for a hook up. The not-so-normal Kendall would, and did.

An hour later, not so long after I ended mine, Kenzie is letting her own sobs out down the hallway. I hear Mercedes groaning and walking down the hallway, opening and closing the door to the nursery.

Normal Kendall wouldn't get up and help her with the fussy baby.

But tonight, not-so-normal Kendall wanted to make a comeback for the second time.

So I got up and walked down to the nursery. I quickly ignored the "shh, it's okay Kenzie" Mercedes kept trying, and stood in front of her in the rocking chair.

"Give her to me."

She looks up at me, completely confused and out of place. "What?" She manages to squeak out with a sigh.

"I said, give her to me. Go get some sleep," I insist, trying to help her out.

"You need sleep too—" she protests, almost sheltering little Kenzie away from me.

"Give. Her. To. Me." I almost tell her about how my father and mother's divorce stopped my sleeping abilities a while ago, but I stop myself and instead keep pushing. It takes a while, but she finally sighs and stands, putting my little baby stepsister into my arms.

"If you need anything I'll be down the hall," she stalls.

"I won't need anything. Go rest," I push once more, words coming harder than I wanted them to be. But they seem to work, because she's finally leaving the room.

She smiles weakly at me. "Anything at all," she says, standing in the doorway.

"I'll be fine. We'll be fine," I look down at the baby.

* * *

We're not fine. I mean, I guess I'm fine, but Kenzie sure as hell is not.

She kept her wailing going on for at least three hours, before I was almost out of options. I'd try feeding her, rocking her, playing with her, singing to her. It was now four in the morning—the baby hadn't gotten a wink of sleep or even taken a break from all of the crying.

"Kenzie, you're obviously out of tears," I whisper to her and she swings her arms around hopelessly in the loosely draped blanket I put over her in my arms.

She's a lot lighter than she looks, with such a heavy head. _Maybe that's why she cries—her head is abnormally heavy and annoying._

It definitely didn't help that I had absolutely no knowledge of babies—I usually based my expertise off of the crazy stories my mom had about Kevin, and how she solved his weird phases.

By five o'clock, I've walked her around every room and spot in the house. I've been through the kitchen at least four times, trying to feed her bottles. I tried sitting on the porch with her, but she didn't like that either. We walked everywhere, occasionally stopping by a window to watch the sun rise. It looks as if it's going to be a good day—weather-wise. It's not until I'm ready to walk back upstairs and into the nursery that I trip over a folded up metal figure that I get an idea. A stroller.

I open it up and place Kenzie inside, strapping her in with a couple of blankets. It only takes a couple turning of the wheels against the sidewalk outside for her to quiet down. _No way_, I thought as we continued down at a faster pace. By the time we traveled two blocks, she's fast asleep.

It's empty and quiet out until we hit Rocque's café we see another person—or at least I think it's a person. The figure was a blob, moving gracefully around in the fresh morning sunlight all the way down by the Tip area, where I had been only hours ago.

We make it down a couple more blocks; closer to the figure until I can tell it is a person. One more block and I'm recognizing a worn out purple hoodie and skinny jeans against tan skin, and perfectly neat hair. The beautiful boy I ran into last night.

He's skateboarding on the small cul-de-sac the Tip is located on, and his movements are almost fluid-like. He gracefully turns the board with little effort, and somehow jumps up on to the public bench on the sidewalk and slides back off with ease. I listen to the rolling of the skateboard wheels under his feet, and to the sound of his singing. _Wait, he's singing._

His voice is almost as hypnotic as his skateboarding abilities—beautiful and unified. I recognize the tune he's singing, but my brain is quick to forget what it was or where I'd heard it before. I don't know how long it was that I'd been watching him, but it was enough for Kenzie to wake up and realize we weren't moving in the stroller anymore. She starts to strike up a chorus of screaming, coughing, and crying all at once. Obviously this takes the boy on the skateboard off guard, because he stops his movements jerkily and clears his throat—as if her were hiding his singing voice from me.

"Sorry," I mumble. Moving the stroller forward. Kenzie quiets down almost immediately, but is still whimpering. "It's just —It's just been a really long night," I sigh.

He nods, again, before looking at the baby, and back to me. "Aren't they all," he says, before pushing off on his skateboard and disappearing down the street. Instead of moving straight down the street in a straight line, though, he turns and does his usual assortment of smooth tricks, and zig zags all the way down the boardwalk to the end.

* * *

"Jonathan, I don't have time for this! I was just asking if you could feed the baby so I could get down to the store!" I open my eyes as I hear Mercedes shouting at my father downstairs. I had been sleeping since I got home from my walk with Kenzie earlier this morning—when I saw the boy with the beautiful eyes and voice. It's almost four in the afternoon.

"Do you really think I'm at a good stopping point right now, Mer? There's an exhibition at the museum tomorrow and I have to get everything read!" Then I remember everything else that happened the previous night, besides staying up all night with the baby. I get up right as the fighting and arguing gets louder, and Kenzie finally decides to join in with her crying.

"Jonathan, please, it'll take me ten minutes! You're making the baby cry!" I walk downstairs in the middle of it all.

"What's going on?" I ask, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"Your father won't feed the baby for me while I run the checkbook down to the store," she explains, while glaring at my father. "The UPS man came with our store deliveries today—the new line of surfboards," at this I notice my father rolling his eyes. "And Carlos just called me asking where the checkbook was, before I realized I had it here." Mercedes is over-explaining at this point. "And Carlos already has so much to worry about, the poor thing."

"I'll do it," I say, deciding to put the baby, my father, and myself out of our misery.

"What?" the both of them say simultaneously.

"I'll take the checkbook down," I shrug.

"I couldn't ask you to do that—" she starts.

"Mercedes, please," I hold a hand up to stop her. "I will take it down. It's not a big deal, I was going to grab something to eat anyways at the café." Rocque's café was going to be the death of my arteries.

Soon I'm out the door with a checkbook and some muffins in hand—Mercedes explained that she "wants her girls and boys at the shop to have something yummy to snack on this afternoon".

"I mean, I was totally in love with him, you know?" I see the short Latino boy with the mole—he must be Carlos, explaining to the UPS man. "He's cheated like, six times, and I've given him chances each time…is there something wrong with me Larry?" the UPS man named Larry looks like he's extremely uncomfortable, and looks extremely relieved when he sees me with the checkbook.

"Oh, you must be Kendall," Carlos notices me too. "Mer called me to tell me you were coming. I'm Carlos." He takes the checkbook and stares at the bag of muffins I have in my hand.

"Oh, right, these are from Mercedes. Muffins." I pat the bag, and hand them to Carlos as well.

"Awesome, want one Larry?" Carlos asks, digging into the bag. The large UPS man nods, and takes one for himself. "Let me just sign this, I'll give the checkbook back to you," Carlos nods at me before tearing out a blank check and using Larry's pen to fill it out. I wander over behind a rack of bathing suits and into the shoes section, leaving Carlos to the UPS man and the checkbook.

"We brought ice cream!" I hear a voice with the jingling of the bells on the door—saying there were new customers or employees in the store.

"And I bought you the new GQ magazine," a higher voice announces. I roll my eyes as my eyes land on a pair of vans that I had my eyes on the last time I looked for shoes online.

"Aw you guys!" I hear Carlos laugh as he says goodbye to Larry, who quickly leaves the store. "What's the occasion?"

"Well, Carlos, there's something we have to tell you—" the lower voices announces.

"Jett was hooking up with another guy behind the dunes last night!" the higher voice squeaks quickly. _Oh shit_, I think to myself. _That was me._

"What?" Carlos exclaims, sounding shocked.

"Camille!" the lower voice scolds. "I thought we were going to do it nicely and slowly!"

"Sorry," the higher voice sighs. "It was just some stupid guy…I've never seen him before," she explains. _I'm not that stupid, _I frown.

"I did, I saw him when Jett was inviting him to come to the Tip," the lower voice admits.

"Ugh! Logan! You didn't stop him?" Carlos shrieks. "What did he look like?" At this question I looked down at my body out of reflex, wondering how they might describe me. I stayed hidden though, behind the bathing suits rack, out of Carlos' sight.

"He was tall, skinny, muscular in the right places," Camille describes me, being a little generous. I have no muscles—or at least I thought.

"Dirty blonde hair," I hear as the other boy, Logan, thinks for a moment. "And these bright green eyes that make you want to sing, I must say."

I feel my face heating up at his compliment.

"But he was a little bony," Camille adds on to his comment, obviously Carlos wasn't taking it well. But who were they to call me—

All of a sudden Carlos was standing right next to me, glaring at me. He takes my arm and drags me back to the two others. There's the girl with the curly brown hair, Camille, Logan, the boy who gave me the death glares last night that made me want to die.

"Did he look like this, perhaps?" Carlos growls, letting go of my arm.

Logan and Camille both gasp.

"You hooked up with my boyfriend last night," Carlos crosses his arms accusingly. Logan's usually death-glare occupied face is now full of sympathy.

"'Litos, Jett's not your boyfriend," he tried taking Carlos' arm and pulling him away from me. "And he didn't know."

"I was in love with Jett! You don't understand!" Carlos ignores Logan and looks straight at me. At this point, I just want to melt into a puddle of guilt and embarrassment. Camille has a blank expression on her face, almost like she dealt with this everyday.

"Carlos," Camille finally interrupts. "How many times has he cheated on you?"

Even I knew the answer to this one, he explained it to the UPS guy!

"Six," Carlos looks down at his feet while mumbling. "Only four if you count that one guy twice."

"See? And this kid didn't know, he's just a tourist," Logan sighs, pointing at me.

"He's Mercedes' step-son…we might as well be family," Carlos looks up. This gets another gasp out of Logan and Camille. "And he does this to me."

"If it wasn't him, then it'd be some other stupid girl or guy, you know that," Camille cuts right to the chase.

"No offense," Logan assures me. "Jett's an idiot."

"He is not," Carlos says with tears in his eyes.

"He is," Camille snakes an arm through his and laces her fingers through Carlos' own. "Really, this is just a sign for you to move on, honey," Camille reaches up with her free hand to cup Carlos' face and wipe the tears away. Logan crosses his arms and nods and looks at me, then looks away.

"She's right," he nods.

"Do you…" Carlos whimpers while looking at me. "Do you like him?" I stand up taller, not sure why I was scared in the first place. The boy was shorter than me, and obviously not emotionally stable.

"No," I promise, I would never talk to Jett again if I had the choice. "I swear." Carlos swallows and nods, handing me the checkbook. Logan and Camille watch me as I move towards the door.

I quickly make my exit.

* * *

"You're going to hate me," Mercedes smiles cheesily as soon as I'm in the door. She's all dressed up, ready to go out, with the baby in the stroller right in front of her.

"Why is that?" I sigh, noticing my father coming down the stairs with a jacket in his hand.

"We're all headed out to dinner," she smiles. "All four of us! Isn't that nice!"

"Yeah," I fake a smile—still a little shaken up from my conversation with Carlos, Logan, and Camille.

Only minutes pass by, and we're waiting to be seated at the diner on the end of the street.

"Shoot," my dad curses as his cell phone starts ringing. "You guys go ahead, I gotta take this. I'll be back inside soon."

My dad doesn't come back inside. In fact, Mercedes and I done and outside—completely full and ready to go back home, while he's still on the phone with someone. He gives us the 'one minute' gesture, while pacing back and forth on the boardwalk, weaving in between the tourists passing by during the dinner rush.

"Do you think I could leave Kenzie with you for a moment? I see a friend over there that I haven't talked to in a while," Mercedes points a woman out sitting on a bench at a distance.

"Sure," I mumble, taking the stroller into my own hands. As soon as Mercedes leaves though, and my dad's out of sight again, Kenzie chooses to start screaming again.

"God, Kenzie, please stop," I walk around the stroller to unbuckle her from her confinements and pick her up into my arms. "You're going to make yourself sick you know." I close my eyes and breathe—frustrated with the screaming baby. I don't open them until I feel eyes on me, someone was watching me.

When I open my eyes, there he is. Tall, tan, hazel-eyed. He's wearing a worn out white v-neck with a pair of dark skinny jeans, with a hoodie hanging from his left hand's grip.

"She's always crying," I feel the urge to spill out, and watch as he chuckles and nods, looking at the baby.

"There's always the elevator," he offers his arms out.

"The what?" I'm not giving up this baby just yet—not to anyone talking about an elevator of some form.

"Just hand her to me, trust me," he says with a smooth voice, raising an eyebrow at my defensiveness.

I slowly hand my baby step sister over, watching in horror as he lifts her up and down at a quick but steady pace. Kenzie finally shuts up, and is soon giggling. Who is this guy? Attractive, beautiful voice, skateboard trick extraordinaire, _and now a fucking baby whisperer?_

"James!" Mercedes rushes over. "I thought that was you," she smiles at him.

James. That was his name. James.

He stops his elevator trick and nods at her. "Mercedes." Kenzie immediately starts crying, after a second of James not bouncing her up and down in thin air. Mercedes takes the baby and straps her into the stroller.

"Oh I'm so glad you met Kendall," Mercedes gushes after Kenzie is restricted again, grabbing his muscular arm (by god, was that boy ripped) as if she half-expected him to run from her. He looks at me and smirks.

"He doesn't really know anybody. Of course, he met Carlos and Logan, Camille too! See I forgot the UPS guy was supposed to come with our new products and everything—" in the middle of her speech I lock my eyes on James', who's paying just as much attention to Mercedes as I was. His eyes stay on mine, it's almost like we're having a conversation with just our eyes. I half-expected him to say something to me out loud, his expression was _that _readable. He remains quiet though, and nods when necessary in the pauses Mercedes offers for herself to breathe—being polite as possible.

When she's finally done, James says nothing but, "I'd better get back to the shop." Not once did his eyes leave mine; I felt my stomach twisting and knotting harder with each thought of him leaving my sight. _Shop? What shop? Where did he work?_

"Alright, tell your mother I say hello," Mercedes pats his cheek. "Kendall, I'm going to start walking back." With that, Mercedes is gone, and I'm left standing with James. I'm speechless of course, lost in his beautiful eyes and blank yet intriguing expression.

"Kendall," he speaks. I open my mouth—almost like I had something intelligent to say. But the truth was, I didn't.

"Your eyes are extremely green, I like them," he says before turning and walking away from me. At this point, I was still stuck in the same spot, no words coming out of my throat. When he's completely out of my sight though, my voice decides to start working again.

"James, nice to meet you."

* * *

** love it? hate it? okay. **

**xx**

**:)**


	3. A Long Day

**Awrpoiwjerpowij so many reviews I don't even know what to say!**

**Thank you to KEALY KAMES, XxxAnimaniacxxX, Kamesplus61, Love and Heartz, Kendalls LogieBear, 0hMyJ33V4S and RammyNeedsAName for all of the reviews for the last chapter **

**Damn, you guys are great.**

**Also, go ahead over to Hikari no Kasai's profile and read As If My Life Wasn't Weird Enough, it's an amazing story, and he's an amazing writer, not to mention a great guy and friend :)**

**That is all.**

**Chapter 3:**

* * *

I always had the best ability to tell the difference between the beginning of a fight, or the end.

Coming back to the house after a walk on the beach—spent thinking about James and how I could possibly see him again soon, I could tell that Mercedes and Jon were right in the middle of a fight.

I stood on the porch with my hand lingering on the doorknob, debating whether or not it would be appropriate for me to interrupt.

"I just thought maybe you'd like to have dinner with the family!" I hear Mercedes shouting. I don't hear Kenzie's usual crying, which is a good thing.

"I came out with you three, didn't I? You're still not happy!" I listen as my father pathetically reasons with my stepmother.

"You spent it on the phone with god-knows-who!" Mercedes shouts right back.

"You think it's easy having my job?"

"What, sitting in your office all day and not doing anything? Like Kenzie! When's the last time you fed her! Or changed her diaper! Or got up to rock her back to sleep!"

"I told you when you got pregnant with that child—" My father starts, but is immediately cut off.

"Your child, Jon. Your child," Mercedes pauses to say this calmly—as if she were slowly preparing to explode.

"Whatever! I told you I'd need my nine hours of sleep to function!"

"Fine! You get your nine hours! But then during the day what do you do? Nothing! Kenzie needs to spend time with her father, not some lazy man who spends all day cooped up in his office." Mercedes is at her breaking point, I can tell. "I have a job too, Jon, my kids at the store can't do it all on their own!" Mercedes finally exploded.

"That's why I think we should just hire a nanny!"

"I told you I don't need one," Mercedes is in tears. I can pretty much hear the teardrops sliding against her cheeks. "I just need an hour or two here or there to figure out work stuff."

"Then ask Kendall! Isn't that why you invited him?" _Oh shit. Really Dad?_

"That's not why I invited Kendall—why we invited him," she sounds hurt, just as much as I was right now. Things weren't looking good for my father at the moment.

"No, you invited him. Why did you invite him then?" _Oh fucking shit._

My appreciation towards Mercedes is growing as it drops for my father at an exponential rate.

"I invited him because I thought it would be nice for you to spend time with him. Just like you need to do with Kenzie," Mercedes is speaking at a normal tone now, but she's hurting all the same as when she was screaming. I drop my hand from the doorknob, stepping away from the door under the porch light.

"Oh Jesus," My dad sighs. "You really think I have time for—" there was more coming to that unfinished sentence. Of course there was. I just didn't want to hear it. I fished my car keys out of my pocket—unsure of why I had them, but glad nonetheless and drove away from the house.

Mercedes and my father reminded me too much of my own mother and my father fighting all those years ago. I still hadn't forgotten the last time my parents fought, before finally giving up on the marriage.

"_You know Jon? I just need you to give me a couple of hours of alone time when I come home from work to grade and write and everything—can't you do that for me?"_

I shake my head to get rid of my mother's haunting voice—much like Mercedes' own sounded through the door only moments ago.

I drive through the streets for what seems like only minutes.

But time passes when you're angry.

It's been hours since I escaped from the house—although I was never stuck inside it to begin with.

Part of me hopes I'll see James outside, but he's probably sleeping, like a normal person.

By the time I return to the house, it's almost three in the morning, the house is dark except for the nursery room window. _Of course._

I sneak my way to the porch, hoping I don't hear anymore fighting. Luckily, the house seems to be quiet, so I unlock the door with the spare key Mercedes told me she left under the cushion of the little wooden chair on the porch.

Craving coffee, I walk into the kitchen to find a pile of pages labeled with different dates and times paired with different subjects like "September 2011 inventory and purchases". Everything is piled up on the island in the middle of the kitchen, I assume these are all work papers and clutter from Mercedes' store, the god-forsaken checkbook I had to deliver earlier was sitting in the middle of it all.

I see a bunch of sticky notes Mercedes stuck to the countertop, little reminders for herself. **"Check payroll status in March." **Another sticky note says **"How about payroll in April?" **Mercedes was apparently having trouble with payroll; another thing must have gone wrong at the shop while I was gone. She gave up at one point, I noticed, because there were several sticky notes with sad faces drawn on them and scribbles everywhere.

I turned on the coffee maker and put the filter in, as well as the coffee beans. I sighed as I listened to the machine spitting out coffee at an extremely slow rate. I glanced over at the heaping pile, and decided I'd help Mercedes out. As soon as my coffee was ready, I sat down at the counter in and took a look at the piles of taxes, debt, checks, inventory stats, payments and checkbooks.

Taking a gulp of coffee out of my mug, I sighed. With a full night ahead of me (a full night in my book) I started to crunch numbers and fix what someone else had messed up.

* * *

"How did you do this?" Mercedes bursts into my room only an hour after I finally made it to my bed. It was now seven according to the alarm clock next to me; I finished with Mercedes' store and money issues at exactly five forty-five in the morning.

"Do what?" I groan, rolling over so the light from the hallway doesn't burn my eyes out of my skull.

"How did you find the issue with the payroll? How are you so good with numbers?" she waves a bunch of papers in her hand around in the air.

"I worked for an accountant last summer," I yawned. "I'm just good with them I guess."

"You guess?" she puts her hands on her hips. "Everything was a mess last night!"

"I know," I groan, wishing for her to leave me alone so I could sleep. During the wonderful hour of sleep I got, I dreamed of a boy with hazel-eyes and tan skin. James was quickly making his way towards my heart, I hadn't even had a formal conversation with the kid.

"It took me four hours just to get everything situated!" she goes on and on for almost five minutes, before stopping. "You know, I've been looking for someone to hire at the shop, to help me with the payroll books for a while now."

_Oh please, please please please_ _don't offer me a job._

"If you're interested, I could make it worth your while," _please, just let me drink my coffee. _"I would pay you as much as the regular employees."

"You know…I wasn't really planning on working this summer, I'm really not a morning person either," I try to reason with her—convince her to not offer me the job.

"You wouldn't have to be, really," she assures me. "You could go in later. Whenever you want."

"I don't know if—" my statement is interrupted by my father coming into the room as well.

"What's going on in here?" he asks with a smile on his face.

"Kendall stayed up last night and solved all of my payroll and checkbook issues, I'm offering her a job at the shop," she smiles at him, as if it's a good idea.

My father looks back at his wife sternly. "He's not here to work, Mercedes. He's here to enjoy vacation."

He's good, I will admit. _If only he knew that I had heard everything he had to say last night…_

"I was also thinking we could go grab something to eat tonight, just the two of us men," my father passes a glance at Mercedes, he was clearly trying to put on a show.

"That would be great," Mercedes says, keeping her smile plastered on her face. _How could she have forgiven my father already? _"Kendall—don't worry about the job. He's right, you're here to enjoy the summer." She smiles a convincing smile, letting me know that she's not completely disappointed in me for turning down the job.

I take a moment to realize that they're both watching me lay back in my bed, shirtless and under the covers. My dad looks hopeful—hopeful that I'm buying his "I love you, son" act.

"You know what Mercedes," I sit up in the bed, letting the covers fall down into my lap. "I could use some extra money for school." Mercedes perks up immediately, surprised at my sudden decision. "As long as it's not too many hours," I point out.

My dad's face is priceless; he looks annoyed to say the least. He obviously understands that I know he isn't the man he acts out to be, that he isn't off the hook in my eyes. Mercedes hops up off the bed.

"Great, I'll go call Logan, and tell him to clean out the office," My stomach drops at the mention of Logan's name, and I realize what a huge mistake I made.

I'm going to be working with Logan, Camille, and _Carlos. _The same Carlos who wanted to _kill_ me yesterday.

Mercedes and my father leave the room, and I'm finally left alone to sleep. Everytime I shut my eyes though, I can't get my brain to shut down and let me sleep. Instead, my mind keeps questioning me and my lack of intelligence, _why did you have to take the job?_

_What have I done?_

* * *

A few hours later, I found myself sitting across from my father in a both at Rocque's café, like he suggested this morning before I stupidly accepted Mercedes' job offer.

We spent hours talking, laughing, eating. I had to admit, I missed this side of my father—not the annoying, deceiting, ignorant one I'd been seeing up until now.

He asked me about Elon, school, extracurricular, how my senior year was summed up.

I finally got to ask him about his job—I tried to do a little investigating on why he was never around for Mercedes or the baby, even if he was in the same house.

"It's tough being the head curator," he sighs, dipping an onion ring into a large amount of ketchup he has on his place. "You have to approve everything that the little people—I used to be one of them, select, and then there's the paper work and shit. It's all bad," he groans. I nod, not understanding why he considered his job so difficult.

"About ready to go?" he asks after we sit in silence for a couple minutes, observing the different people and tourists walking through the restaurant.

"I think I'm going to take a walk on the beach," I tell him. He nods and we walk out together.

"How long do you think you'll be out tonight?" he asks.

"Uhm, give me an hour," I estimate. I didn't plan on doing much at the beach, but I didn't want to be back at the house just yet.

"Sure," my dad nods before shoving his hands into his pockets. "See you then." I make a point to wave, but he's already turned around and walking away by the time I get my hand up.

I make my way down on to the beach, slipping my vans and socks off when I make it to the sand. I walk all the way down to the water, and walk along the mark of where the tides come out and go back in again.

My ankles start to get cold as the sun goes down, because I had my jeans rolled up to about mid-calf level. The cool air hits my wet feet, sending shivers up and down my spine.

That's when I decide to head back up a couple feet or so to sit on the dry sand, away from the water for a little bit. I pull my hood up over my head and hug my knees against my chest, and rest my chin on top of them.

It's extremely peaceful right now, there's no one on the beach except for me. I pull out my phone as it vibrates from deep in the comforts of my sweatshirt pocket, a text waiting for me when I turn on the screen.

**Mercedes 8:30pm: You should stop by the shop and get acquainted for starting tomorrow **

Ah, Mercedes, always interrupting at the right moments.

With that, I get up and walk towards the boardwalk again, and down to Inlet Outlet Surf Shop.

* * *

"I wonder where these M&M's came from," I watch Camille raises an eyebrow at Carlos, while holding a package of M&M's up.

"Dak sent them, for Carlos," Logan chuckles from his position on top of the counter at the register. "Can I help you?" he asks when he sees me, narrowing his eyes a little bit.

"I'm here to do the book," I tell him, explaining my presence.

"The what?"

"The book."

"Payroll, he means. And all that other number stuff. He's smart," Carlos cuts in, while snatching the M&M's away from Camille. "These are mine," he tells her. I watch as she smirks at Carlos.

"You know, Dak sure has a thing for you, 'Litos," she teases.

"He does not," Carlos makes a funny face before turning back to me. "The office is back that way if you want to go get settled." He points to the back of the store, right behind the display of surfboards—different than the ones I saw yesterday.

_Of course, that's the only reason—I repeat, only reason, I'm here._

"Thanks," I force a smile, realizing my hood is still up and pulling it down quickly. I feel their stares as I make my way to the back of the store.

Once in the office, there's an overwhelming smell of artificial apples, I glance over to a shelf on the wall to see an air freshener—no doubt, apple scented.

Besides that, the office is a mess. The desk is untouched, under a pile of boxes and papers—bank notes, checks thrown around, papers everywhere.

_Dear god, Mercedes._

I sigh before pulling all of the boxes on to the floor and get right to work, I start with organizing.

I wasn't planning on staying long, but it's already nine-thirty when Carlos knocks on the door and opens it.

"We're closing now, if you're almost done." He watches as I put the last of the files I created into a box, ready for me to continue tomorrow. I was at a good stopping place for now.

"Yeah, I'm done."

"Alright," he turns to leave, but stops himself. "Hey, about yesterday—"

"It's okay," I don't want to be reminded of my incident with Jett.

"Okay, I just want to know that we're cool, alright? Jett really gets the worst out of me, I didn't mean to freak out on you," Carlos leans against the doorway, waiting for me to tell him I didn't hate him or something.

"Yeah, we're cool," I force a smile, standing up from my position on the floor surrounded by boxes and files. "I'll get to those tomorrow," I point to the assortment, before stepping over everything and turning the light off in the office. Carlos leads us back out to the shop, where Camille and Logan are waiting. Logan stands by the door, watching all of the people on the boardwalk pass by.

"Carlos, your loverboy is waiting outside," Logan says in a singsong voice.

"Never mind that, what are we going to do tonight Carlos?" I wait for Carlos to pull the keys out of his pocket to lock up the store.

"We could go to the Tip, someone said there was going to be two kegs tonight," Logan contributes.

"No, I'm so tired of flat beer and sand getting in my socks," Carlos pipes in.

"We could go to that club in Jackson! I can get you guys in, I have a fake ID," Camille offers.

"Uh, when was the last time that actually worked out for us Cammy?" Logan interjects.

"I think I'm just going to home," Carlos says, after turning off the floor lights and opening the door for all of us, giving me the 'okay' to leave.

"Hey guys," Dak rides over on his bike, followed by Jett and some other friends. "We're headed over to the jump park, want to come?"

"Oh please—" Camille starts.

"I'll go," Carlos shrugs. He hops on to the handlebars of Dak's bike, before realizing all of his friends are watching him.

"What? I'm not going to the Tip, or some raunchy club," Dak begins to pedal away with Carlos on the handlebars. "See you tomorrow Kendall," Carlos lifts a hand to wave over his shoulder.

"You guys going to the Tip?" Logan points to the rest of Dak's group. Some nod, and start to walk in the same general direction.

"Bye Kendall," Logan and Camille wave, walking along with the rest of the group. I barely even notice that Jett stays behind, waiting for everyone to be out of earshot.

"Hey, Kendall," he says. I try to walk away, but he grabs my arm. "Woah, stop, I want to talk to you."

"What?" I say, the word coming out a little bit snippier than I planned. However, he deserved anything rude I had to say to him.

"You took off pretty fast the other night," he gives me a stern look, as if he'd never been rejected before.

"Yeah well, I had my reasons. Can I go now?" Talking to him is easier now, I just didn't want to.

"Why did you go? I thought we were going to—"

"Going to what, Jett? Please, enlighten me on what you thought we were going to do," I stand up taller and straighter, showing him I wasn't some weak pushover, in which he clearly thought I was.

"You're a fucking tease, you know that, I don't know what the fuck is wrong with you,"

"You're a dumbass who's never faced rejection I take it—" with that I take a slap across the face.

"Don't talk to me like that, you have no idea who you're dealing with,"

"I think I know exactly who I'm dealing with—" a punch straight to the face interrupts me. Luckily for Jett, it was late enough that there were barely any people on the street to notice me writhing in pain on the ground.

"Jett!" I hear someone shouting at him, but I can't see the source of the voice. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" The voice gets closer, and I hear the sound of footsteps getting closer. "Oh my god, get the fuck away from him." I feel someone wrapping his or her arms around me and lifting me up before helping me over to a bench. "I'm sorry Kendall," I hear Jett say a bit smugly.

"Are you okay?" I hear a smooth voice past all of my blurry vision.

_That voice, where have I heard that voice before?_

"I'm fine," I double over in pain, landing on the person's lap, my vision still not returning to me.

"Woah, Kendall, we'd better get you home."

"No, Mercedes can't—no one can see me like this," I object. "Just leave me here, I'll be fine."

"I won't leave you," the voice gets softer, almost a whisper. My vision finally clears up, and I'm able to look up at the person who was helping me.

_It's James. _

My stomach lurches, but not out of pain this time.

"J-James…I—" I start, but I'm at a loss for words. The fact that he's here, holding me in his arms, it takes my breath and mind away.

"Shh," he whispers. "My brother's a dumbass."

"_Brother_?" I jump up, a little too fast for my weak body to handle. I stumble over, but James is quick enough to grab me before I hit the concrete sidewalk.

"Don't—stop, I don't need your help," I try to wriggle free, but I feel myself growing fainter by the movements.

"You need to relax," James tries sitting me back down. "You took a blow to the head, stop freaking out—"

"Don't touch me!" I'm enraged by the fact that James is related to the son-of-a-bitch that tried to hurt me—and succeeded.

"Kendall, please," he shoves me back down on to the bench, and he sits next to me.

"Stop," I have tears in my eyes now, ready to fall.

"Listen to me—"

"How could I listen to you? You're related to _him!_" I feel the blood rising, words couldn't possibly describe to him how I was feeling.

"I'm sorry, it's not my fault he did this," he puts his arms around me as I try to move away, try to run, annoying me even more. I didn't want to be touched right now—not by him or Jett, his stupid brother.

"Let go of me—" my words are interrupted by a soft pair of lips pushing against mine. I feel the blood rising in my body, ready to explode, but I can't help but let it all melt away as he continued to kiss me—as _James_ continued to kiss me.

He finally pulled away, leaving me confused and helpless.

"Will you let me speak now?" he asks, seeming a little irritated by my stubborn attitude. I nod, having nothing else to say to him.

"Jett and I are brothers, yes—" he holds a finger up, stopping me from any thoughts or anything I had to say. "We've never really gotten along, we're not anything alike. Please, believe me."

I look away, tears still sitting on the rim of my eyes despite everything that had happened.

"Kendall—"

"I want to go home."

"What?" He seems taken aback by my request.

"I want to go home, to Mercedes' house, please help me," I ask, knowing I couldn't go alone—it was too risky.

"Alright," the beautiful boy sitting next to me sounded hurt, but it wasn't completely my fault. I was hurt too—both physically and emotionally.

We walked in silence, his arm wrapped around my waist for support. To anyone else on the sidewalks, we would have looked like a couple. We were far from it though. It would be wrong for me to be with James, even if he felt the same way. I had already accepted the fact that he only kissed me to shut me up before, that it meant nothing, which made me feel worse about my current condition.

"Sorry I had to kiss you before, I had to calm you down somehow," he explains when we get to the porch steps. There it was, the explanation. Something inside of me died at this moment, I barely even knew the boy and he was crushing my heart.

"It's okay—I'm sorry I was being so irritating," I sat down on the bottom step, my legs growing weak under me. I hunched over in a sudden attack of pain in my head.

He sat down next to me on the step, noticing the pain I was going through.

"Are you alright?" he asks, worried. I pick my head up, the pain spell going away.

"I'll be fine," I say, knowing I was right. I would be okay, I always ended up okay. That was the amazing thing about me, my mother always said. No matter what kind of pain I was in, at some point it just magically disappeared.

"Are you sure?" he leans in closer to throw an arm around me, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah," I whisper, looking deep into his hazel eyes, right into his mind. _There had to be something there, some kind of feelings for me. _ What I did next was not the normal thing for me; I had to test my theory of feelings.

I kissed him.

I lean right in, and kiss him. Something I've never done before—never dared to think about, I made the first move for a kiss.

The most interesting part about this situation was that he didn't pull away in shock, he didn't move. He kissed me right back, as if he had been waiting for it to happen.

I pulled away from him; I realized I was falling hard, and dangerously fast. The normal Kendall would be freaking out right now out of fear. But then again, when was the last time normal Kendall was around?

I now realized I was a new Kendall—this town was changing me in ways I hadn't expected.

From that moment on, my answers for James were just 'yes'.

"_Are you going to be okay?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Can I see you later tonight?"_

"_Yes."_

* * *

**Uh oh, Kendall and James are falling for each other…**

**Sorry it's so late, I don't know the next I'll be updating so it's now or never!**

**xx**


	4. A Hidden Past

**When's the last time I updated…Sunday? Monday? Either way, you guys have flooded me with support and I thank you for that. Thanks to those who reviewed, including Kamesplus61, jamesmaslowlover, XxxAnimaniacxxX, Love and Heartz, 22random ninja22 and KEALY KAMES.**

**Here's the thing.**

**I'm going to be away pretty much for a week and a half, starting today. I don't know when I'm going to have Internet or not, which could be a problem. I'll be able to write, so, expect a flood of chapters coming your way when I get back—or maybe not. I don't know.**

**Please enjoy what could be the last update for a week and a half :/ enjoy!**

**Chapter 4:**

* * *

"Hm, this board definitely has the best traction for your feet—especially if you're not really an experienced surfer," I listen as Carlos coaxes another customer into buying a surfboard.

"I haven't been out on the water much, I don't know if I want to buy a board just yet," the customer is completely unsure, but I walk further into the store past them to the office, confident that Carlos will change the customer's mind.

"Hey Kendall," Logan says as he notices me weaving through the racks of clothes and suits. I lift a hand up out of response, determined on fixing the rest of the files and checkbook mess I left in the office last night—no time for small talk.

I'm in the office for more than an hour, before everything's sorted through and organized. The room itself is in much better shape—it looks like someone could actually work in it if they needed to.

"Hey Kendall, I have the new shipping orders and inventory updates for you," Carlos opens the door unexpectedly with a few papers in his hands. He hands them to me, before he leans in the doorway, watching me move the papers around before labeling them and getting ready to punch the numbers into the calculator for the store book.

"So what'd you do last night after we left?" he's not going to leave me anytime soon, I can tell. That's how I figured out that it was a slow day for the surf store—which made sense because it was perfect beach weather, and everyone must have been down at the water.

"Eh, nothing really," I shrug in response, letting the night's memories fly by through my head.

* * *

"_Hey," James announces his arrival by sliding into the bench across from me at the booth. We had agreed to meet at the diner down a couple miles out of the town—the only place close to but far enough from Colby._

_The diner was nothing like the one I went to at home, the coffee was watery, and the water had a coffee taste in it. It was a lose-lose situation._

_I look up at James, still unsure of why he might actually be attracted to me, even if it was only in the tiniest bit. All I knew at that point was that I was most definitely attracted to __**him**__—his mysterious behavior was just so…__**intriguing.**_

"_Hey," I say calmly, choking down the last of the watery coffee._

"_How's your cheek?" he asks, nodding at the gash and fresh bruise on my cheek._

"_It's…okay," I hesitate, wincing as I reach a hand up to poke it._

"_I'm sorry about that," James looks down at his hands on the table, neatly folded together and calm. "I really, really don't like my brother sometimes."_

_He looks genuinely sorry and pitiful, so I reach a hand out to touch his own._

"_Hey, it's okay," I make sure his eyes meet mine so he believes me. "What do you want to do tonight?" I ask, deciding to change the topic._

"_We could…" he pauses to think. I wait for him to think about the night ahead of us. He's wearing the same purple hoodie I saw him in couple nights ago when I first saw him at the Tip, then in the morning while he was on his skateboard. His jeans are worn out and ripped at the knees, but fitting none the less. He has a pair of vans on like me—confirming his beachy and skater lifestyle._

"_Do you like pie?" He finally asks._

"_Sure?" It was more of a question than an answer._

"_I have a few errands to run if you don't mind. But then we can get some pie," he definitely had his own routines like I did at night. He waits for me to accept or reject his plan, watching me with his beautiful hazel-eyes._

_How could I say no to those eyes?  
_

* * *

"Hellooooo, Kendall," Carlos snaps his fingers, pulling me out of my flashback.

"What? Sorry, I blanked out," I apologize, mind setting itself back to the numbers and calculator in front of me.

"Yeah, I know," Carlos rolls his eyes. "We're here if you need anything," he says before disappearing.

I nod to myself, trying to get back on track.

A couple hours of filing and working pass by quickly before I tune into Camille's high-pitched voice outside, in the store.

"You know what I heard last night?" I hear Camille say out of nowhere in the shop. There must be no customers again.

"What's that?" I hear Carlos and Logan ask simultaneously.

"James was out, with someone," Camille informs them.

_Oh? Was this not normal?_

"James…as in James Diamond, Jett's step-brother? On like, a date?" _Oh, they're just stepbrothers. He never clarified that. I wish it were a date._

"No, like, hanging out. All night. You know how he basically never sleeps, right?" Camille asks. I listen from my position at the desk in the office, staring at the wall ahead of me with a deep blue paint. The smell of apples from the air freshener is almost sickening, but it's not the important thought on my mind at the moment.

"Yeah, I heard that from Jett when we were dating," Carlos tells his two best friends.

"Why does he do that again? I like to sleep," Logan chuckles.

"He hasn't, ever since…" Camille says in a lower voice, so low I have to strain my ears to hear them speaking. _He hasn't since what? Since WHAT?_

"Since Eric, Logan," Carlos finishes Camille. _Eric?_

"Oh, right," Logan quiets down. The three don't say anything for a bit, which really bothers them.

"So what are we doing tonight?" Logan asks.

"How about the jump park?" I hear Carlos offer, before groans come from the other two. "What? There are boys there…"

"Carlos, I like girls, remember?" Logan sounds annoyed.

"And we went there the other night," Camille pipes in.

"But you know what _I _heard about James?" Carlos stops the others from complaining. "Someone said he'd ride tonight. You know, skate again. Show everyone who's king at the jump park."

"Shut up, you know it's just another rumor," Camille doesn't sound convinced.

"Yeah, every week someone says that but he never does," Logan, agrees.

"I guess," I hear Carlos sighing. "Ever since Eric, nothing's been the same with James."

_Who is Eric?_

"Hey Kendall," I jump at Camille's voice in the doorway. "Woah there," she giggles. "Didn't mean to scare you."

I sigh out of relief, chuckling at my own stupidity after a moment.

"We're about done here, are you?" she asks, lifting a hand up to twirl her finger through her hair. "Woah, what happened to your cheek?" she takes a step forward when she notices the gash and bruise on my cheek—the one Jett conveniently left.

"Nothing," I mutter, trying to hide it. "I'm clumsy," I lie. She seems to buy it though, for whatever reason.

"Well…. I guess we're going to go to the jump park or something," Camille frowns. "Carlos really wants to. You should come check it out."

I nod.

"Maybe I will."

* * *

It wasn't that hard to find the jump park.

Really, all you have to do is follow the random people on skateboards and bikes in town for less than a mile, and bam, you are at the jump park.

I didn't mean to come here, honestly. When I got home, my father was reading the poor baby an excerpt from a book on photography and the history of curating, and Mercedes was no where to be found. Not wanting to be a part of anything going on in the house, I grabbed my car keys and drove away.

The park was built like a football field, except smaller. There were bleachers on the opposite side of the grassy and dirty area where people parked their cars. In between the bleachers and the 'parking lot' was the jump park itself.

It wasn't what I was expecting, to be honest. I was really only expecting a couple of kids on their bikes jumping around on makeshift ramps and trick equipment as well as some stoners watching the bikers while getting high.

I was wrong though.

There were the dirt ramps for dirt bikes, as well as a huge half pipe for the skateboarding clan. There were also some rails, as well as a cemented pool-like thing in the ground where both the bikers and the boarders were dipping in and out of.

"Hey cutie, where's the party at?" I hear a familiar disgusting voice coming from my right. I turn; ready to punch Jett's lights out when I realize he's not looking at me. He's chasing after some blonde girl, who shoves her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and smiles shyly before walking away from him. He chases after her though, the persistent little fucker he is, not giving up like he did with me.

I find myself scowling out of disgust, watching Jett charm the girl into following him behind the set of bleachers. I start making my way towards the jumps themselves, only wanting to watch for a little bit. My eyes scan through the people on the bleachers, looking for familiar faces. Some of them I recognize from the Tip the other night, before Jett stole me away from everyone My eyes finally land on a familiar Latino boy—one looking worried and anxious, eyes following a certain ex-boyfriend of his and an innocent blonde girl.

"Carlos," I mumble, feeling bad for the boy—I could tell he know what was going to go on under the bleachers between Jett and his victim.

Soon though, Carlos hops over the railing of the bleacher and down on to the park ground, next to Dak. Dak blushes before getting off his bike and offering it to Carlos. Carlos smiles and says something to the blushing boy before getting on the bike and riding over to the end of the line of dirt ramps.

Carlos starts pedaling at full speed, but somehow manages to keep complete control over his bike. He goes up the first ramp at a lower height, kicking up some dust with the tires. The second ramp is higher, and by the last ramp he's at an impressive height—causing people to cheer as he gracefully lands and rides the speed off over to Dak, and returns the bike.

Deciding I've had enough, I turn around and walk back to my car.

And _that_ was the jump park.

* * *

When I woke up the next day, it was eleven. I had gone to bed at around four in the morning—relatively early. I could run efficiently on seven hours of sleep I decided, so I rolled out of bed. It took me a moment to realize it was raining outside, pouring down rain in fact.

"Mercedes, I'm going to the store," I announce, ready to head to work. I pull up my hood, ready to step out into the rain.

"Woah, hold up there," Mercedes comes running into the hallway with a fluorescent pink umbrella.

_Oh please don't hand that to me._

"Take this with you—" _Shit. _ "We don't want you getting a cold." She thrusts the umbrella towards me.

"It's fine, I have my hood," I try to resist the pink plastic thing.

"Unless you want my pink rain jacket," she raises and eyebrow and crosses her arm over her large boobs. _You were right mom, they're definitely fake._

"Fine," I grunt, taking the umbrella.

"See you later," she cheers up.

I never really realized how much I loved beach weather until I was walking down the streets of Colby in the pouring down rain, with a pink umbrella that I truly didn't want to be holding.

"Morning," I walk into the store, being greeted by Logan.

"Morning," Logan nods. "Carlos and Camille are out getting coffee. Did you want anything?"

"No," I shake my head. "Thanks though. You know where to go if you need me," I point towards the back of the store and Logan throws up a peace sign, signaling he understood.

"Hey Kendall?" Logan asks before I disappear behind the surfboards.

"What's up?" I stop in my tracks.

"Whaddup with the umbrella?" he frowns while pointing at the pink umbrella Mercedes forced me to bring.

"Mercedes," I answer.

"Ah," Logan shuts up and nods, he completely gets it.

As soon as I settle in to the desk chair in the office, my phone starts buzzing in my pocket—telling me I have a call. I answer it after checking the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hey kiddo," I hear the most familiar voice in the world.

"Hi mom," I smile to myself.

"I was thinking about coming down this afternoon—I'm off of work," she informs me.

"Oh sure—"

"But I'm not staying with that blondie and your father, I don't think I could handle a new born either," I can almost hear her eyes rolling.

"You know mom," I'm preparing to defend Mercedes. "Mercedes has actually been really nice, she's not what we really thought she was."

"Oh please, I've met that woman once. Once too many times if you ask me," she scoffs, disgusted by my defensive side.

"She's really been great though. I'm even working for her—"

"You're working for her? Oh honey it's even worst than I thought!" she's panicking, only because she thinks my dignity has flown out the door, I can tell.

"Yes, I am. I'm doing books. A lot like last summer with that accountant," I shrug, spinning in the desk chair.

"Seriously? At least the accountant was a respectable man," I can tell my mom is disgusted.

"Mercedes is a respectable woman! All of the products here, they're smart investments, they actually sell, it's really easy doing all of the inventory and payroll stuff," I flick at a piece of fuzz that was sitting on my shirt, growing annoyed with my mother quickly.

"Sure," my mom chuckles. "And your father?"

"What about him?" I ask.

"Has he changed?" _People don't change mom, you said it yourself._

"No," I sigh, knowing she's right.

"Didn't I tell you? People—"

"People never change," I'm officially annoyed with her.

"And Mercedes hasn't either. She's the same annoying blonde bimbo with the attitude of a teenage—"

"Mom!" I shout into the phone. As much as Mercedes was to handle, I was starting to like the woman—I wouldn't have my mom insult her like that anymore. "I get it! You don't like her!"

"I don't," my mom sounds satisfied, like all she wanted to do was make me crack.

"I don't think it's a good idea that you come down here," I have to hold my growling back. "The weather's gross and all—"

"I get it, Kenny," My mom cuts me off. "I'll talk to you later." She then hangs up, and I feel a little bit guilt for what I said.

"Kendall?" I hear a little whisper coming from the door. "Can I come in?" It's Carlos, hiding behind the door from me.

"Sure," I reach a hand up to pinch the bridge of my noise in an attempt to relieve the massive headache my mom caused.

"Was that your mom?" Carlos leans against a couple of boxes stacked against the wall.

"Yeah," I sigh.

"She's a badass I take it," Carlos chuckles.

"You could call her that, I guess. I get tired of her attitude a lot though," I confess.

"She wouldn't happen to be Dr. Jennifer Knight, would she?"

"That's her," I answer.

"Huh," he walks over to sit in a small chair in the corner.

"Are you going to have her as a teacher in the fall or something?" I ask, curious.

"No," Carlos shrugs.

Carlos is a simple boy, which I like. He doesn't waste time acting like we're friends, exactly, because he thinks he has me pinpointed. He can tell I'm upset with my mother—so he offers to stay with me for a while. Rain calls for a slow business day, apparently. I nod, accepting his company. He doesn't speak, which I appreciate. He just keeps me company while I crunch more numbers into the calculator and out on to paper. Before I know it, I'm done with everything I could possibly do for the day.

"Well, seeing as you're done, I think you can head out now," Carlos stands just as I do to stretch.

"You guys don't need me for anything else?" I ask, unsure of what to do with my free time now. Usually I worked until the store closed.

"Nope," he shrugs. "Not anything I can think of."

"Alright…" I shift my weight around on my feet, making for an awkward silence.

"So there's this party tonight…" Carlos starts. _God no. Please don't invite me. Please no parties. _"I think just about everyone is going to be there. I'm going with Logan and Camille, do you think you'd want to come?" _Oh god, Carlos is actually reaching out to me. I would look like a douche if I didn't say yes…_

"Sure," I shrug, while cursing myself on the inside.

"We'll come over to your place and walk with you," he smiles.

"Sounds good."

I then make my way out of the store as quick as possible, not wanting to get myself into any more trouble or obligations.

_Oh Kenny, what have you done?_

* * *

"So the trick is, you don't talk to any boys until you're fully into the house. The guys outside on the lawn or by their cars are cute, yes, but they're just trouble," Carlos ushers me into the house I've never seen before—Will Blakeson's house. "If you ask me, six out of ten of them are going to get a DUI tonight on their way home." I nod pointlessly as we move further into the crowds of people while informing me on party do's and don't's. Carlos takes my hand at some point and literally has to _pull_ me through a small crowd forming in the hallway. At some points, Logan is behind me with little Camille in the back, but other times they're lost to the crowds.

The rain's finally tapered off after pouring all day, but the grounds and sand outside are still a little wet, hence the fact that most people were inside the house when we got there.

I can honestly say I feel out of place now.

Eventually we land in the living room some how, surprisingly less crowded than the other parts of the house.

"Hey, didn't someone say there was a keg or two for tonight?" Camille finally finds her way over to Carlos and I.

"Oh yeah," Carlos nods. "I think there is. Where's Logan? He can get some drinks for us." Carlos leans against a small table pushed against the wall so it would be out of the way.

"I can get them," I stupidly offer. Camille snaps her head in my direction, shocked at my offer.

"Thanks, Kendall," Carlos seems shocked too. I don't take it offensively when he continues on to say, "I didn't know you were experienced with these things." It's not that I avoid parties—which sometimes I do, I just didn't like them. I'd show up just to say I had gone on a random night in the weekendwhen I had nothing better to do, no extra work or tests I had to study for during the school year.

"I'll be right back," I smile at the two, leaving them behind in the living room. I fall in line behind someone with an empty plastic cup, undoubtedly going for seconds. Or thirds, maybe even fourths. The point is, I had a hunch the girl in front of me is leading me to the source of alcohol, and I was right.

She finally leads me into the dining room, occupied with baked foods and beer. Carlos had told me at some point that Will's father owned the baking company in the area—so it made sense to see so much food laid out, not something you'd see at what I'd classify as a standard rager.

My eyes land on the keg as I grab three clean cups from the stacks on the table, and make my way over to the keg. It's been quite a while since I've used a keg, so when I see the faucet, the pump, and all the other mechanisms on top of the silver cylindrical container, I can say I'm confused again.

I turn the faucet on the top, waiting for the pressure to be relieved on the beer on the inside. Eventually I turn it some more and press down on the nozzle, creating a steady flow of the golden colored liquid. I wait until the cup is filled with a thin layer of foam before moving on to the next one.

"Let me guess," I jump at the voice suddenly next to me. I look up and my eyes meet James'. "You're stuck with getting the beer for the friends while they sit and talk in the other room." He grins at me.

"Actually, I volunteered," I raise an eyebrow.

"Ah," he nods. "So I was almost right." I chuckle at this.

"That you were," I finish filling up the cups before turning the faucet closed on the keg and standing up straight again. James walks over to the table covered in food, staying relatively close to me though.

"You know, the person who lives here's father is a baker, that's why there's all of this," I inform him, not able to stop the spewing of random words coming out of my mouth.

"I've heard that," James nods, eyes running over some of the pastries. He turns again so he's facing me, leaning against the edge of the table.

"How's your cheek?" he reaches up and brushes his thumb over the bruise on my cheek, the cut almost healed.

"It's better," I shrug. One thing we hadn't talked about the other night when we were together was about the kissing that occurred on my porch step. The undeniable attraction to each other was lingering above us, or at least above me. I couldn't control the way I acted around James—but he didn't seem to mind. He even smiled when I made my dorky mistakes and said awkward things, which believe me, it happened a lot.

"Do you think I can drop these off with Carlos and Camille?" I motion to the beers sitting on the table. "I've been gone a while, they probably think I've been swallowed by the crowds as a whole."

"Sure, meet me out back," James smiles again; with the beautiful toothy grin I never thought would never grow accustomed to. It was just too unique, and special. My face heats up as he takes my hand in his and squeezes it.

When I finally regain my composure a bunch of girls in the room are staring at me, wide-eyed and mouth agape. I ignore them before making my way back to Carlos and Camille, almost spilling the beer on several drunken people who bump into me.

"There you are," Camille looks at me like I'm a hero.

"We thought you got lost," Carlos takes a beer out of my hands for himself, handing the other one to Camille.

"None for yourself?" Camille asks, noticing I have nothing in my hands.

"It was too much to carry, I'll go back," I shrug. I walked away before they could protest, heading straight to the backdoor—or what I believed was the backdoor. I make my way on to the porch, pushing through a bunch of people before my eyes land on the beach out in front of us. The Blakeson family lived on the private beach I heard people talking about sometimes when they'd stop by in the store during the day, so the beach was clean, empty, quiet—less risk for us partygoers.

James is sitting with his shoes in the sand at the bottom of the porch steps.

"Hey," I say as I sit down next to him on the step.

"What's up?" he smiles at me, hazel-eyes glowing.

"Oh, nothing much," I sigh, pulling my knees up to my chest and leaning my chin on to my knees.

"So…about the other night," he starts. "You know, when we kissed…" I nod, with a blush creeping on to my face.

"Continue," I encourage him.

"Did you…" he frowns, not sure of how to word anything. "Did it mean anything to you?"

I sigh before looking out past the ocean to the dark horizon.

"Yes," I mumble, almost a whisper. "What about you?" I'd be lying if I said I couldn't care less. I was in fact desperate to know, to say the least. I turn and look at him, kind of wanting to see his face when he told me it was all a sick joke, that he thought it was funny that I kissed him.

"Yeah," he nods. _Wait, what?_ "It did."

"Really?" I croak out, words couldn't describe how happy I was at the moment.

"Yeah," his hazel-eyes finally meet mine, and he blushes.

_Was that a blush? I think he just blushed!_

_Here I go again, _I think to myself as I feel my body subconsciously leaning in towards him. _Since when did I make the first moves? _This time though, instead of me having to lean all the way, James meets me halfway. Our lips connect at the perfect time, perfect angle, perfect everything. Everything seemed so perfect about James right now. Fireworks are going off in my body at this point, his lips felt so silky and soft against my own. We move them in perfect harmony, for what seems like only bare seconds—but it turns out we've been going at it for minutes.

"Abort, abort abort!" I hear someone hiss in my ear, yanking me away from James, away from the perfect moment. It's Logan, pulling me further on to the beach. I turn and see James looking confused—a heartbreaking sight. Then Camille and Carlos show up on the porch, looking just as confused as Logan stops us a couple hundred feet away from the house.

"What the hell?" I'm actually angry at him now, I was actually having a moment with James.

"Will saw you guys!" he explains.

"Will—"

"Logan, Kendall, what happened?" Carlos stops in front of us after breaking into a run with Camille by his side.

"Kendall and James were making out—" Logan pants.

"KENDALL AND JAMES?" Carlos shrieks, not letting Logan finish.

"Yes! Will saw them!" Logan's still completely out of breath from dragging me halfway across the beach.

"Will? Oh my god!" it's Camille's turn to shriek.

"What is going on?" I finally put a halt to the madness, wanting an explanation.

"Will Blakeson used to date James," Carlos explains, out of breath. "They were together for…what, a year and a half?" he turns to his other two friends. Logan shrugs, and Camille nods.

"I think that's seriously besides the point," Logan raises an eyebrow as he points to a figure running towards us on the beach, still trying to catch his breath.

"Oh shit," Camille hides her face.

"Who the fuck is this?" the boy running points at me with an angry expression before stopping. I assume it's Will, Will Blakeson.

"Kendall," I inform him.

"Kendall, eh? Did you know you were making out with my _boyfriend?" _His voice shakes when it says the word boyfriend.

"Ex-boyfriend," Carlos steps in and corrects him.

"Whatever!" Will shouts at Carlos.

"I want you off of my property," he motions to all four of us. "And stay the _fuck_ away from James," he points at me angrily.

He finally makes his way back to the house, leaving us silent and scared.

"Since when do you talk to James?" Carlos finally breaks the silence.

"Since the other morning, when I saw him skateboarding on the—"

"Wait," Logan stops me, holding a hand up with a raised eyebrow. "You saw him skating."

"Yeah, and singing." All three pairs of eyes watching me widen out of disbelief.

"What was he doing on the skateboard?" Logan panics.

"What was he singing?" Camille smiles at me incredulously.

"I don't know, tricks and stuff. He's really good. And I'm not sure what he was singing. It sounded familiar though—"

"You have to understand, Kendall," Carlos has a sincere look on his face. "James doesn't just talk to anybody."

"Why does everyone keep _saying that_?" I almost rip out my hair.

"Okay," Logan sighs. "If we're going to tell him stuff about James…"

There's a pause while he looks at Carlos and Camille, both of whom nod at him, before he speaks again.

"I think we need to tell you about Eric."

* * *

**Love? Hate? Sorry if you didn't like it... :/ I tried to make it as good as possible so you guys don't hate me for not updating for a while...**

**xx**

**Sarah**


	5. A Dark Night

**Grr so this took so much longer than I expected…I really thought I was going to have Wi-Fi at some point... :S**

**But now that I have Wi-Fi for what could only be minutes I'm posting this :)**

**Thank you to the lovely-sweet-galx, Moonbeam-987, Love and Heartz, shadybaby, Rackler, KEALY KAMES, DramaJen89, jamesmaslowlover, XxxAnimaniasxxX, waitingFORthePERFECTsong9092. You guys are really just….GAHH I don't even have words. **

**So I know it's been a week…so as promised…**

**Chapter 5:**

* * *

"So, you need to understand," Logan begins, taking a seat on the sand—far enough down the beach from the Blakeson house. The rest of us follow his lead, taking a seat in a small circle.

"James and Eric were really the best of friends. They were exact opposites, but they grew up and did everything together," Logan continues.

"And they skated together. Through half-pipes, down steep hills, up ramps, all that trick stuff," Camille pitches in.

"Oh yeah, James even got a bunch of sponsor offers," Logan nods. "Eric wasn't as into it as James was, but did it anyways I guess. James was better with skating, Eric was better with school work."

"But the one thing they were equal at…" Camille trails off, her eyes following the beam of the lighthouse informing the sailors still of Colby's existence.

"God, they could sing," Logan nods, finishing Camille's sentence. "James and Eric, they were a team when it came to music."

Carlos smiles sadly. "What was it they sang that one time? I think Jett put it up on YouTube…" I watch as he makes a grabby motion with his hands towards Camille's phone in her hands. She hands it over, and he quickly opens up a video.

He grins down at the loading video screen before handing the phone over to me. Sure enough, there's James sitting on a couch with a boy holding a guitar next to him. Both boys are smiling, holding their plastic cups filled with beers.

"Okay," the boy next to James, _Eric, _quiets down everyone crowding around them on the screen. "Here's one we thought everyone would enjoy, it's just one of those summers for James and I again, let's see if you guys agree." He strums a single chord on his guitar to make sure it's tuned, before he's strumming out a familiar tune.

"There's a hundred and four days of summer vacation…And school comes along just to end it," James starts out the first line of the Phineas and Ferb theme song. I grin, remembering that my older brother Kevin indeed loved the show.

"Oh yeah, I remember this one," Logan smiles, fond of the memories this Eric boy seemed to provide. I was feeling a little left out, to be honest, only because I never got to meet or know this kid. Logan leans back on the sand, propping himself up on his arms with his legs straight out in front of him.

"Like maybe, building a rocket or fighting a mummy or climbing up the Eiffel tower!" Eric strums away on the guitar on Camille's phone screen.

"He sounded like this when I saw him by the Tip the other morning," I sigh.

I feel three sets of eyes on me as I continue to watch the video, all three watching with judgmental looks.

"So stick with us cause James and Eric are gonna do it all!" James finishes the song, and Eric smiles right at the video camera and waves.

I sigh after the screen goes blank and hand the phone back to Camille.

"One day, they were at the jump park," Logan continues the story. "James had already accepted a sponsorship to a skate company right by the U, where Eric was planning on going to school." I look down at my shoes covered in sand, wondering if Eric would have had my mother teaching him in the fall.

Carlos looked like he was in pain, and Camille remained silent. "I was talking to James right after he came out of the half pipe. I was in the middle of a fight with Jett, so I was asking some things." Carlos pauses and swallows.

"Eric was in the middle of a jump. He came down and at one second, he was fine. The next though, he was unconscious in the middle of the half pipe." Carlos winces at the word 'unconscious'.

It was moments like these where I wish the night sky could get even darker, so I wouldn't have to see all of the emotions my three new friends were experiencing while retelling the story of Eric.

"James got in the ambulance with him, and they were off." There was a long silence afterwards, but it was refreshing. I needed a break from all of this information.

"Eric had cancer," Logan breaks the silence with a solemn voice. "He knew, and he didn't tell anybody. Not his parents. Not even _James_."

"When he fainted at the jump park—his body was finally saying it was time to give up, time to start facing reality," Camille looks at me. "James stayed strong though. He stuck with Eric even as he was getting weaker and weaker. For the most part, things stayed the same."

"But when he died, James went quiet. He cut himself off from people. He blamed himself for Eric's death," Carlos chokes out.

"How could it have been his fault?" I object, tears in my eyes. "He didn't know!"

"Kendall, calm down," Logan raises a hand up. "We know."

"This is just why when you were talking to him at the party, everyone was freaking out. Especially Will. No one's really talked to him in forever, except for Jett of course," Camille explains.

"Will stuck it out with James for a while after Eric passed away. Eventually though, he got bored with the quiet James," Logan shrugs.

"That asshole," I clench my fists full of sand tightly, ready to go back to the party and knock Will down to the ground.

"He broke it off, finally, and James was freed of the Blakeson curse. If you ask me, he was doing James a favor," Camille rolls her eyes. She starts digging through her little purse and pulls out a lighter and a box of cigarettes.

"Want one?" she offers all of us. I shake my head solemnly, still saddened by James and Eric's friendship story. We sit there in silence a little while longer.

"So you like James," Carlos nudges me with his shoulder. Thank goodness it was at least dark enough for them not to see my face going bright red.

"Ooh, yeah," Camille coos with the lit cigarette dangling in between her pointer and middle finger. "Tell us."

"I don't know. I don't really know him," I lie, not bringing up the entire night I spent with James.

"Really, so you make out with him all the time and you don't like him," Logan snorts.

"I only did three times!" I object with my agape. "Not all the time!"

"It's happened more than once?" Carlos is surprised.

"Shit," I mumble. Carlos raises an eyebrow at me, so I give in. "Yeah."

"When?" Logan joins in.

"A couple nights ago after—" I stop myself from explaining the bruise and cut on my cheekbone.

"After what?" Camille pushes.

"After I did this," I pointed at my cheek, trying to get around the question of what really happened.

"How did you do that—" Carlos starts the question I didn't want to hear before Camille interrupts.

"He's clumsy, Carlos. Anyways, what happened? Did he like, sweep you off of your feet in the pouring rain? Was there tongue in the kiss? Did you run your fingers through his perfect hair?" Camille asks, way too interested in the situation.

She always did strike me as a hopeless romantic though, despite the sarcastic and rude humor she often displayed since day one of knowing her.

"No, guys, stop," I put my hands up to stop the questions from spewing. "It was just a kiss," I wince, knowing they'd catch my lie.

"No it wasn't," Logan raises an eyebrow. _What was it with him and Carlos and their questioning eyebrows? _"I saw you two tonight, there was something going on there."

"Okay so I like him!" I admit. "Okay? Happy?"

Carlos smiles smugly, and Camille leans back while taking a drag out of her cigarette.

"Very happy."

* * *

A couple hours later, Carlos, Logan, Camille and I had finally gone our separate ways.

I found myself walking the streets of Colby, with a cup of coffee from the quick-mart in the middle of the block. Eventually I'd encounter a pair of drunken teenagers walking back from the party I'd been kicked out of.

My mind had been racing all night. Eric was a big part of the thoughts flying around, smacking themselves against my brain to create the ultimate headache. Kissing James was the other part.

I couldn't help but let my heart race in my chest when I thought about his soft lips uniting with mine—it was a feeling I didn't want to forget_, ever. _Then I started thinking about his broken expression as soon as Logan was dragging me away.

I stopped at the bike shop where James worked, noticing a small light coming from the back of the store. I pressed my free hand up against my forehead to cup my eyes and leaned in to try and see into the store. There were bikes and skateboards everywhere, hanging on the walls, sitting on the ground, some dangling from the ceiling. It looked like one giant hazard—if you ask me.

Sure enough, James is in the back, fluttering around with various papers and things in his hands. I knock on the glass, taking him by surprise. He jumps, and some papers fall to the ground. I see him smile weakly before stepping over the pile and making his way to the door and unlocking it.

"Hey," he smiles the same weak smile, making me feel a little guilty.

"Hi," I stand awkwardly with my coffee cup. "Can I come in?" I nod past his shoulder into the shop.

"Oh," he mumbles before nodding, stepping aside.

"So I just wanted to say I'm sorry," I tell him once the door is closed and locked behind us.

"For?" he leads me to the back of the shop and stops to pick up the papers I caused him to drop.

"For leaving so suddenly, I mean, Logan dragging me away."

"Oh, it's alright," he shrugs. "So which one of your buddies told you?" he turns back to me, a blank expression on his face.

"Told me what?" I know exactly what he's talking about. He's talking about Eric. He knew from the moment I was being dragged away that I would find out soon.

"Don't play dumb, Kendall," he sets the papers down on the table. "I know those three friends of yours are not ones to keep secrets. Also, judging by the look on Logan's face when he looked back at me…" he trailed off.

"He was more worried about Will—" I try to change the subject.

"You know why I took a chance with you, why I actually stepped out of my current comfort zone to kiss you when you were so angry with me?" he cuts me off, not wanting to hear my excuses.

"Why?" I ask, my voice cracking.

"Because you're new, you're interesting. You didn't know about Eric, or my messed up habits. You didn't judge me when you looked at me at the Tip the other night, and you actually smiled at me, _blushed _when I spoke to you the entire night we spent together. I actually liked you from the moment I saw you."

I feel my face heat up as he acknowledges my obvious crush-moments.

"But now you're just going to be different. I don't want you to pity me—"

"Pity you?" I stop him. "You should be pitying me, if anything right now. I almost got my ass beaten by your ex-boyfriend back there." I raise an eyebrow, finding a window out of ruining my current relationship with James.

"Really?" His voice sounds amused, surprised.

"Yeah, really. I should be mad at you, not you mad at me. So don't start with me," I take a step closer to him subconsciously, wanting to be close to him again.

"Could I start something else?" he looks down at me, finally softening up and smiling.

"Go for it," I relax at the smile on his face and smile back up at him, thankful that the height difference wasn't too much. He leans down and captures my lips in a sweet kiss, moving them around slowly. Before I know it, we're separated again to get air, smiling at each other.

"I may not ever be able to get used to that," I blush, looking down at our feet as he keeps his hands placed on my hips.

"Have a seat, I just need to finish up some stuff here," he chuckles, pointing at the small stool against the wall.

I sit for a couple of minutes, listening to him hum a tune in his workspace. Soon we're out of the shop and walking down the boardwalk—holding hands. _Yes, holding hands._

"Why are you shaking?" he smiles at me and nods at my hand tangled with his.

"I'm not shaking," I shrug it off, but my face heats up and my breath gets more and more uneven—the tell-tale sign of a lie.

"Your hand," James chuckles and stops us in the middle of the empty boardwalk.

I pull my hand away, embarrassed.

"Just nervous," I mutter. "Is that so wrong?"

"Don't be nervous," he places his hands down on my hips and flashes a dazzling white smile at me.

"I'm sorry," I giggle. "You're just really attractive and sweet, and I don't get why you like me in the slightest bit."

He sighs, as he pulls me on to the sandy boards leading us on to the beach, leaving my statement unacknowledged. He pulled me down next to him on the dunes. The last time I was on a sand dune, Jett was trying to take advantage of me. This time though, I didn't let fear strike through my head as I sat next to James watching the waves roll into the shore down at the water. If anything, I was excited. I was happy I had a whole summer ahead of me with James; happy we were sitting together right now.

"I like you because you're sweet, funny, from the looks of it, smart. And somehow I know you meant it when you said you wouldn't and don't pity me—you don't want to feel sorry for me. I don't want that either." I turned to face him, letting the sand under us stick to my jeans and shoes.

"And those eyes," he melted, unable to keep eye contact. "God, they're contagious or something."

"Is that bad?" I chuckle, covering my eyes. He grabs my wrists softly and pulls my hands away from my face.

"No, they're so god damn green. Like I'm looking at the most perfectly colored green apple in the world."

"That would be the greatest compliment if I didn't completely hate green apples…" I chuckle.

"Oh," he blushes. "Well I didn't know!"

"I know," I laugh at his surprised expression. "There's a lot you don't know about me. I know a lot about you, you know," I raise an eyebrow jokingly.

"Oh, so now you're just the James Diamond expert aren't you?" he teases, nudging my shoulder with his own.

"Definitely, I think I've got you down pat."

"You've got me down? Really?" he looks like he's up for the challenge, so I grow weary as he stands up and holds out his hand to me.

"I'm not sure," I joke. "I don't think I should trust you…"

"You can for now, I don't have enough energy to play any tricks or pull any pranks on you, baby," he jokes around. My heart stops though, when he says 'baby'.

"Oh," he blushes, noticing my 'deer-in-headlights' expression. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—It's been a while since I've had to flirt with someone,"

"It's fine," I take his hand and stand up; loving the fact that I now knew for sure that he liked me.

"So I have somewhere I need to take you," he takes my hand again, and lifts it up to kiss it.

"Lead the way," I chuckle, using my arm to make a sweeping motion towards the boardwalk.

"Here we are," he opens a door for me to a 24/7 Laundromat.

"If this is an excuse to get me naked," I snort. "I'm not cleaning my clothes right now."

"No stupid," James rolls his eyes, pulling me towards a door at the back of the lines of washing machines. "We're going in here."

He holds the door open for me once more, and I'm stepping into a dark room with a bunch of Christmas lights strung everywhere on the ceilings and walls.

"Hi there, James," an older man sitting behind the counter with an opened newspaper acknowledges us.

"Hey Gustavo," James greets the portly man as I awkwardly sit down at the counter.

"Could we get some coffee? And two slices of pie."

"I only have green apple left," Gustavo warns the two of us. I grimace as James turns to me and grins devilishly. _Green apple, honestly?_

"That's perfect, 'Stav," James keeps grinning at me as the coffee and pie is placed in front of us on the counter.

"So who's this kid? You never bring anyone back here," Gustavo takes a seat across the counter from us and folds up his newspaper.

"This is Kendall," James takes a sip of his coffee. "He used to go to that local diner down the street."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Gustavo looks at me sympathetically.

"This coffee makes up for it," I grin.

"Wait 'til you try my pie," he watches me eagerly. I feel guilty for hating green apples.

"Yeah, Kenny," James turns to me on his stool and crosses his muscular arms over his chest. "Go ahead, try it."

"I'm not that hungry," I lie, giving James a well-deserved death glare.

"You have to at least try some though…I tried a new type of crust tonight."

"I guess," I sigh. I'm going to have to man-up at some point if I'm going to date someone like James Diamond. I gather a tiny piece of the pie, watching the green apples ooze warm juice and shudder. "Here goes," I mutter to myself before pushing the fork into my mouth.

"Oh my god," I mumble, realizing how delicious the pie was, despite the fact that I had developed and grown a hatred towards green apples since the age of three.

"Yes," James chuckles. "Score one for James."

"Hey, don't get so cocky. I still don't like green apples. I like it in pie form apparently though," I shrug.

"No, you like it in _my_ pie form. No one makes pie like I do."

"Great work Gustavo," James wipes his mouth after we're both finished with the coffee and pie.

"Thanks buddy, I'll see you at the shop tomorrow," he says, waving away James' offering of money towards the midnight snack.

"He's nice," I mumble as soon as we're back into the Laundromat. It was weird being in here, considering we were just in a warm, small, friendly environment. Now we were in a large, colder room, almost as if Gustavo's little pie shop had never existed.

"He is," James leads us back out on to the boardwalk. "He gave me a job at the bike shop a couple years ago, been buddies ever since."

"So I will admit, you were right about the pie," I shove my hands in his pockets.

"Oh I know, I could tell by the facial expression as soon as the pie was in your mouth," he teases me.

"Oh really? What kind of face was that?" I chuckle.

"It looked like you were mid-orgasm, I'm not going to lie."

"So now you know what I look like while I'm having an orgasm," I stop in my tracks, placing my hands on my hips. "Naughty, naughty."

"Maybe not now," James raises and eyebrow. "Eventually."

"Eager are we?" I've let all shy and nervous sides of me spread wings and fly away at this point—the old 'normal' Kendall was completely gone and a faint whisper in the wind by now. Now I was embracing my funny and flirtatious side—I wanted to show James I wasn't some weird, nerdy, shy kid with anxiety issues.

"Maybe," James grins. "Maybe I just want to kiss you." He steps close enough to me so that I can feel his breath against my lips.

"I'm not going to stop you," I grin back. "Maybe my green-apple eyes will though."

"Oh shut up," he leans in and I close my eyes, letting his lips take me away into la-la-land. We stand there on the sandy boardwalk making out for what must be minutes. He lets his tongue travel past my lips, and I accidentally let a moan slip out into his mouth. I blush, knowing I must sound out of control and weak by doing so, but James didn't seem to mind. He let out a couple of moans himself, which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up completely.

"Okay," I finally pull away, needing to breath. He doesn't look hurt by me doing so, if anything he was relieved himself. "You're an amazing kisser. I don't get it."

"What don't you get?" he chuckles, pulling me into a hug.

"How could one human being be so perfect?" I wrap my arms around his waist, loving the contact.

"Trust me, I'm nowhere near perfect," He mumbles into my hair before kissing the top of my head.

"But you are, I still don't get why you chose me," I sigh, inhaling the scent of his fitted t-shirt.

"Because," he shrugs. "It was hard for me to stay away."

"But you're a fucking supermodel," I point out, acknowledging his flawless appearance.

"I'm not," he pulls away, offended. "Supermodels are weird. And snobby."

"You're right," I chuckle. "I'm sorry. You're not a supermodel. But you're pretty damn close." I still can't believe this is happening—_to me_. James is some gorgeous kid that I regularly wouldn't even think twice about taking a chance with. But here we are, and he's the one who initially took the chance with me.

"Wanna sit on the beach again?" I offer. "My legs are gonna collapse if you keep kissing me here and destroying my abilities to think like a normal human."

"Sure," he smiles, taking my hand in his.

We make our way down to the beach and sit under the lifeguard chair, watching the waves get closer to our feet. At one point, we're almost trampled by a wave, so we move to sit in the chair itself, ten feet up in the air. I somehow manage to snake my arm around James' waist and pull him closer to me, providing the contact I'd craved since the last time we'd been touching like this. We sit there for hours, talking about random things—from green apples, _which I still hate, _to movies and celebrities we'd found attractive.

"So tell me more about yourself," James puts his arm over my shoulder and kisses my cheek.

"What do you want to know?" I rest my head on his shoulder. It's almost three in the morning, and I was wiped out from the long day.

"Start with…family?" he comes up with a random topic.

"Well…you know my dad, and Mercedes I guess. I have a brother named Kevin, and I live my mom. Her names' Jennifer."

"How about you?" I prompt him to share more about himself—more than the sadder things I already knew about.

"Just me and my mom, really, besides Jett and my step-father," he shrugs, bumping my head on his shoulder. "Sorry," he chuckles, reaching up with his free arm to pat the top of my head. "What are your plans for school this year?"

"I'm going to Elon University," I sigh, thinking about the end of summer was going to kill me at some point.

"Really?" James sounds surprised. "Maybe you'll be roommates with Carlos."

"What?" I jump, lifting my head up. "Carlos?"

"Carlos is going on a full scholarship…Are you two really friends?" James seems surprised I didn't know that.

"I just didn't know Carlos was…" I'm not sure how to word it without sounding like a judgmental asshole.

"Smart?" James laughs. "He doesn't come off that way, but he really is. He came over when he was dating my step-brother and tutored the shit out of him."

"Wow," I'm genuinely shocked—I'd have to ask Carlos about it tomorrow. "So what are your plans?"

"I'm going to be managing the bike shop back here. I kind of missed out on my chance for college back when…" he trails off. I knew he was immediately reminded of Eric—something I didn't want him to feel bad or sad about.

"So you'll be here," I clarify.

"Yup," he shakes out of his sad trance.

"I also hear you're quite the skater?" I move back to get closer to him and place my head on his shoulder.

"I used to be," he giggles. "Not anymore."

"I see," I'm not going to push him any farther—I'm too tired to make him angry or cause any problems.

"Everything used to be good," he yawned, leaning his head on top of mine. "Before Eric died, you know?"

I hum in agreement while closing my eyes, listening to the sound of the waves.

"I never thought it would get any better," he admits again, I can tell he appreciates my company and listening abilities.

"Has it gotten any better?" I ask, keeping my eyes closed and focusing on the sound of his heartbeat through his shoulder.

"I don't know," he sighs. "But meeting you was pretty damn great."

I smile, even though he can't see it. It was also probably good that he couldn't see my face changing colors from white to red in the dark.

"I was thinking the same thing," I tell him. Honestly, my life had been pretty boring and straightforward—with my annoying parents, crazy brother and insane step-mom.

"Well it's good that we met each other, then," James chuckles, lifting his head up. I lift my own and lean in to kiss him.

"I like your lips," he smiles. Even in the darkness I can see his bright smile.

"I like yours," he blushes. I set my head back down on his shoulders—ready to drift away to sleep right here and now. "You know what I don't like, though?" I ask as soon as his head is leaning against mine again.

"Hm?" he mutters, just as tired as I was.

"Green Apples."

* * *

**I feel like this was a really poorly written chapter. Please review; tell me what you don't like about it I'll make it better the next update.**

**Also, I'm going to apologize again for any grammar or spelling, again I have really slow internet so I can't edit through the Doc Manager...**

**Sorry :( Don't hate me.**


	6. Start of a Quest

**I'm sorry if you've read this book, it may be quite out of order at this point, but it'll straighten out I swear. :0**

**Oh, and I basically wrote and posted this on my phone due to lack of internet connection, so I'll apologize for grammar and spelling errors in advance.**

**Thank you to all of you who reviewed, including XxxAnimaniacxxX, SWACGleekFreak, amrice101, Kamesplus61, Love and Heartz, 22random ninja22, KEALY KAMES, jamesmaslowlover, JamesxKendallxKames3, bthebird2, Moon-beam987. You guys have all flooded me with reviews and I'm absolutely in love with you all for that. **

**Chapter 6:**

* * *

"James," I poke James' cheek. "James! Get up," I try to wake a sleeping James up, with his head on my lap.

We're still on the lifeguard chair—exactly how we fell asleep on the beach about an hour ago. The sun was still not up, but the sky was already turning a deep purple with the exception of a few bright dotted stars.

"James," I whisper again, leaning down to kiss his forehead. James starts to stir in my lap, but then nuzzles himself back to a deep sleep.

"Jamesey," I kiss him again, this time on the lips.

"Mmm, Kendall," he mumbles. My face heats up as I chuckle.

"James, wake up," I say, a little more firmly.

"Kendall…stay with me," he starts to move around, slowly waking up. He finally opens his eyes and turns bright red.

"Did I say anything embarrassing?" he mutters, closing his eyes again in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.

"No," I shrug. "Now I know who you dream about, though," I wink at him. He pulls his hands over his face to hide an even darker shade of red.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry, don't think I'm weird," he mutters into his hands.

"I don't," I chuckle, pulling his hands away to kiss his forehead. "We should get up though."

"What time—" he pauses to yawn, "is it?"

"It's only four-ish," I run my fingers through the matted down hair on his forehead.

"Oh. I'm going back to bed then."

"No you're not, come on," I try to lift him up into a sitting position. "I don't think the lifeguards would appreciate us sleeping here when they get to work later."

"Oh shit," James snaps up, realizing where we were. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's okay, I did too," I reassure him. His panicked face doesn't seem too convinced though.

"Fuck. Okay. Uh, I need to go."

"What?" I'm taken totally off guard by his statement.

"I'm sorry," he jumps down on to the sand and starts to walk away, before he quickly stops and turns back around. He climbs back up the chair to me. "I have to be home at four to help my mom at the house before she leaves for work." He leans in and presses those soft velvet lips against mine and he's automatically forgiven. Once he pulls away though, he's jumping back down to the sand and walking quickly towards the boardwalk. "Thanks for sticking with me," he calls out behind him, making me smile. My eyes follow him until he's completely out of sight, before I let out a long and heavy sigh.

"_Thanks for sticking with me?" _Was he worried that I'd hate him because of the Eric story being exposed? Was he actually scared I would change and be a jerk?

_Think again, Jamie._

* * *

It took me a couple minutes to decide to make my way back to Mercedes' and my father's house. When I slide open the back door, I realize that the lifeguard chair James and I had fallen asleep on was in full view. I slip inside, hoping to be able to get upstairs without being noticed. As soon as I'm about to push open the door to my bedroom, I hear the usual infant's crying down the hall and remember Kenzie's existence.

I stop walk down the hallway to the nursery and see Kenzie flailing her limbs around in the crib.

"Oh, Kenzie. Kenzie Kenzie Kenzie," I repeat in a singsong voice. "Don't cry, baby girl," I reach down and pick her up, before starting the elevator motion James had taught me when I first talked to him. She quickly quiets down as expected. "There you go, girly," I chuckle before sliding her back down into the crib.

"I've done it!" I hear a voice shout down the hallway, muffled by a closed door somewhere. "Everybody! Wake up!" Kenzie starts her crying right as my father bursts through the door, holding what appears to be a photo album.

"I'm finished, Kenny!" My father looks beyond excited and attacks me with a bear hug.

"That's great," I mumble.

"Don't you get it? I'm done! With the museum collection! I'm free!" He's jumping up and down and going through giggle fits.

"What's all the commotion about?" A tired and yawning Mercedes walks into the room in a pink nightgown. There are bags under her eyes and I could tell that the last thing she wanted to do at this hour was to be woken up.

"I've finished the collection they asked me to pull together, Mer-bear! The one I've been working on for months!" he's jumping up and down again, and I remain standing awkwardly next to the crib.

"Oh Jon, that's great," Mercedes smiles with a yawn. "Let's go out to celebrate tonight."

"Can you hire a sitter for Kenzie? You need a break," my father stops his jumping and giggle fits before putting a hand on Mercedes' shoulder.

"Maybe, if I get calling around for one early," Mercedes seems so overwhelmed.

"I could do it," I offer, _James must have put me in a good mood lately._

"Oh Kendall I couldn't ask you to—" Mercedes starts.

"Great! Mer I'll go make reservations at the Condor," My dad cuts her off. If I could roll my eyes without getting in trouble, I would do it. He leaves the room, leaving Mercedes and I alone with the baby.

"Are you sure?" Mercedes reaches out to grab my hand and squeezes it.

"Yeah," I say, this time a little more sincerely. I wouldn't really mind taking care of my stepsister tonight, I wouldn't meet James until after my father and Mercedes got home. "We'll be fine, right Kenzie?" I turn to the baby and wink at her. Of course she doesn't understand me, so she continues her normal crying and baby babbling.

"Alright then," Mercedes is a little weary when she finally accepts my offer. "Thank you, Kendall," she gives my hand another squeeze before dropping it. She turns to leave before stopping in the doorway.

"And I'm sorry," she sighs, giving me a sympathetic look. "I know you heard what your father and I were arguing about the other night, and I know he said some really harsh things about you coming and how you came only to babysit and—"

"It's fine," I cut her off. I didn't really want to hear any of it from her; I wanted to hear my father apologize for that on his own will and time. "I know you were both stressed out, he probably didn't mean half the stuff he said, right?" I chuckle.

"Right," she hesitates, unsure of why I was in such a good and voluntary mood. "Well, you could go get some rest now if you'd like, I'll go get a bottle for the baby." She finally turns back towards the hallway and leaves. I make it back down the hallway to my room and collapse on my bed.

* * *

"Okay so here's my cell phone number, here's your father's, but you already have that one."

Mercedes is whipping small pieces of paper with numbers scribbled on them at me. "Here's his work phone, he'll have that one on him too, and here's mine," she seems really worried to be leaving me with the baby alone.

"Mercedes," I groan after she hands me a twenty-dollar bill. "I don't need this," I try to hand it back.

"It's for food and stuff. And emergencies, but I trust you won't be having any of those…right?"

"I guess," I sigh. My father is standing by the door adjusting his tie and cuff links, waiting for Mercedes to stop being ridiculous.

"Oh Jon, don't you look handsome," Mercedes finally looks up from all of the numbers and emergency contact information she's going through. I look up at my father again and take in his appearance. My father was never actually that handsome, nor did he ever feel the need to try to be. The few times he cleaned up for an event, it was a huge surprise to everyone.

He generally wore polo shirts and khakis with different sandals and sneakers everyday—sometimes jeans if it was cold or raining. He kept his hair pretty straightforward; he didn't have that much of it to do anything with. He was balding at the top of his head—not that anyone could see it because of his above-average height. My father also forgot about shaving his graying beard growing on his chin—so there was usually some stubble involved. Some might say the most attractive thing about him is his eyes—both the deep emerald color I got mine from.

"Well thanks hun," he finishes while fidgeting with his cuff links. I watch sadly as Mercedes waits for a compliment, but doesn't receive one. "We should get going, reservation's in half an hour."

"Alright," Mercedes sighs—which actually broke my heart a little bit. "So you know where to find us, how to reach us. Feel free to do whatever, just have her in bed by eight-thirty," she informs me one last time.

"Sounds good," I watch as my father leaves without holding the door for his wife.

"I guess we're going then," Mercedes rolls her eyes. "Thank you so much, Kendall," she gracefully walks over in her ridiculously high heels and kisses my forehead. I offer a smile, wanting her to cheer up.

"Hey, Mercedes?" I ask right before she walks out of the open door.

"What's wrong?" she turns, already looking panicked.

"You look really pretty," I smile. She calms down before she looks as if she might explode tears of joy.

"Thank you, it's been a while since I've heard that," she chuckles. "See you later kiddo."

She closes the door behind her and I'm finally left alone with Kenzie.

"So Kenzie," I walk into the living room where Kenzie is laying on the floor with all of her toys. "What do you want to do?" There are some incoherent baby words in response, which I smile at.

"Of course," I sit down next to her and rub her stomach. "That sounds fun." My phone starts buzzing in my back pocket, and I have to roll over off of my behind to get it out of the pocket.

"Hello?" I ask, not recognizing the number.

"Hey Kendall," I hear a familiar voice on the end of the line.

"Carlos, what's up?" I ask, settling back down next to Kenzie and tickling her.

"I hear you're babysitting?" I hear him pushing some buttons on the cash register.

"How'd you hear that?"

"Just an assumption, Mercedes just drove by with Jon and neither you or the baby was in the car—thanks so much! Have a nice day," he talks to both me and a customer.

"Well your assumption is correct," I flip Kenzie over so she can crawl around.

"Why don't you bring her down to the shop? We all want to see her again," I hear Logan saying 'Yeah!' from somewhere in the store on the end of the line.

"I guess we could go visit, huh Kenzie?" I chuckle as Kenzie giggles and grabs on to the hem of my shirt with her tiny hand.

"Awe, she sounds even cuter than before," Carlos melts at the sound of Kenzie's tiny laughter.

"We'll be right down," I laugh at the baby pulling on my shirt, pulling as hard and tight as her little fists could manage.

"Alrighty," Carlos chirps before hanging up.

"Want to go visit Carlos?" I smile down at Kenzie before swooping her up and putting her into the stroller with a pink blanket. She started to cry as soon as I walked away into the kitchen to grab a bottle, but quickly stopped as soon as we hit the sidewalk outside.

"Hey Kenzie!" the baby was greeted by Logan as soon as we entered Inlet Outlet. "Hey Kendall," Logan says before kneeling down in front of the strolling and smiling at my stepsister.

"She's gotten bigger," he looks up at me with a smile. "What has Kendall been feeding you?" he tickles Kenzie's stomach before unbuckling the restraints on the stroller and picking her up in the blanket.

"Don't be offended if she starts—" I was cut off by the sound of Kenzie wailing and screaming, kicking her arms around in Logan's arms. "Screaming."

"Oh," Logan looks panicked, as if he's never dealt with a crying baby before. "Here," I take the baby back quickly, before lifting her up and down—the elevator.

"Wow," Carlos walks over. "You've got the touch, huh?"

"It's called the elevator," I point out, feeling accomplished while thinking of James.

"I see," Carlos raises an eyebrow. "Hand 'er over," he smiles, waiting for my stepsister to be in his arms."

"Be careful," I warn him. "She'll start crying if you give her a reason to."

"I got it I got it."

* * *

"So you've never been bowling before?" James raises an eyebrow, thoroughly judging me while picking up a bowling ball and handing it to me.

"I can't say I have," I struggle to hold the ball correctly using the holes made for my fingers.

"Dear god, what do you do to spend your time?" he leads us over to a lane before setting me up in the lane.

"I don't know," I shrug, before mimicking his motions as he rolls the ball down the lane next to me. My ball goes straight for about two feet before rolling straight into the gutter. "Fuck."

"It's okay, you just have to get used to it. I don't go bowling much, but it's a rite of passage—you know? Like watching Star Wars, or Lord of the Rings."

I stare at him, hoping to trick him into thinking that I've watched both Star Wars and Lord of the Rings—but he reads right past my blank expression and sighs.

"You've never seen Star Wars or Lord of the Rings?" He puts his hands on his hips.

"I'm sorry, I've been busy basically up until now."

"Kendall, you're eighteen years old. You've had eighteen years to do stuff," he's actually confused by my social life.

"Well, when I was born my parents were immediately throwing me into educational daycares," I inform him before pausing to roll the purple bowling ball down the lane again. I miss, right into the gutter. "Then I was in school—transferring to smarter and smarter schools, so I never really got to keep any friends." I waited for my purple ball to show up from the machine that returned the bowling balls to us after they were lost in the sea of pins.

"Then I was in high school before I even knew it," I felt his eyes on me as I let the ball fly out of my hands and almost dropped it on my feet. I groaned before bending it over to pick it up. "I kept transferring even then, until I hit this ridiculous smart people academy with a class size of like, thirty. I got into Elon, which is exactly what my dad wanted—"

"Is that what you wanted?" he asks quietly before rolling one of the balls gracefully down his lane.

"I guess, I mean, I liked a lot of schools from my options—so I just had to pick one. Having my dad have an opinion was actually kind of helpful, so when I thought about it and looked at the school again I decided I really liked it."

"Alright, continue."

"So then I graduated, and the baby was born," I sigh. "That's when it kind of hit me, that I was going to college in the fall, I was done with high school."

"So why are you here?" he pitches a question in which I'm not sure how to answer.

"I'm not sure," I think back to my brother, Kevin, and the picture frame he sent. _Having a good fucking time, _the frame sitting in the bottom of my suitcase reads. "I think I'm supposed to be here—like, to cross some things off my list or something before I go to college."

I pick up my bowling ball again, and try to toss it accurately for the billionth time—getting it a little bit farther down the lane than usual before it dove into the gutter.

"So you're on, like, quest?" he asks, rolling the ball down the lane perfectly and effortlessly.

"I guess," I shrug. "I don't know…it's stupid. Forget I said any—" I get cut off by James and his curiousity.

"So you want to do things…like…blow up fireworks on somebody's front porch, be actively involved in a food fight," I raise both eyebrows—intrigued by the sound of throwing food at people. "And break things pointlessly, drive donut circles in empty parking lots?"

"Sure," I shrug, even though everything he said had nothing to do with anything I was thinking ago. "Again, it's really stupid. Don't worry about it."

"It's not stupid," he sighs. "Eric used to do all that stuff, that's why it's all crossed off of my list," he smiles sadly. "But your list, we've got to get that done. Like, soon."

I smile when he says 'we'. Here I thought he was just killing time with me, hanging out. Maybe some kissing and handholding was involved, but nonetheless just hanging out. But the idea of completing a quest with him—a strive to finish things I had never even thought about starting with him, now _that_ was something.

I pick up a bowling ball and roll it down the lane another time, before it actually hits two of the pins lined up and knocks them down.

"Oh my god!" I jump up and down. "You had to have seen that."

"I did, congrats," he smiles. We play for another hour or so before we turn the bowling shoes back in and walk out of the bowling alley.

"And now," he unlocks his car for us to get inside. "You may cross bowling off your life-list."

"So what's next?"

* * *

"So, how's everything at home?" Carlos asks from his spot behind the register as I make my way through the store towards the office.

"Good, good. My dad's helping more today than he has in the entire week I've been here, makes it easier for everyone," I shrug.

"That's good," Carlos nods. "What'd you do last night after you brought the baby home? We thought maybe you'd show up at the Tip."

"Oh, me? Nothing really—" I was interrupted by the sound of a body hitting a window behind me.

"Pull, Dak," Carlos yells towards the door. I turn to see Dak straighten himself up outside the door and then pull the door open.

"Who says I couldn't make an entrance," Dak proudly announces as he walks towards us. Logan and Camille show up at the register. "Boys," he pauses when he realizes Camille is in front of him. "And girl."

She nods and smiles at him, appreciative of his comment. "Just an announcement," he starts. "Hot-dog slash hamburger party at mine and Jett's place, first of the summer."

"You and Jett live together?" I cut him off.

"Yup, forgot you were the newbie here," he nods, giving me a funny look before shaking his head and smiling again. "Anyways. Bring your own condiments."

"Is James coming?" Camille asks, before shooting me a funny and accusing glance.

"He was invited, so we'll see, but I wouldn't count on it." Dak shrugs, oblivious to Camille's funny look. _Wouldn't count on it?_

"Hot-dog parties were Eric and James' tradition," Carlos notices my puzzled expression and explains. "Every Saturday night."

"Got it," I understand now, but I would make sure James would come. He was on a quest now too; I was going to continue to help him be happy again, just like he was doing with me.

"So are you guys in?" Dak asks, looking at Carlos directly, eagerly. Carlos blushes before nodding.

"I'll be there," Carlos announces before going to tend to a customer who suddenly walks in.

"Sounds good," Logan and Camille say in unison. "Are you going to clean up your house this time though?"

"Isn't it always clean?"

Even Carlos stops talking to the customer to join in Logan and Camille's synchronized "No!"

"Alright, alright. No need to go OCD on me, jeez. I'll break out the Clorox and paper towels."

"Good," Logan nods.

"And make sure you're in charge of cooking, I can't handle Jett's. You would think living with James since you were eight would help you learn how to cook," she shakes her head before walking away. Logan goes off to help another customer in the store.

"How 'bout you new kid?" Dak turns to me and smiles hopefully.

"Sure, I'm in."

* * *

**Short. Like it? Yes? No?**

**I'm sorry if it wasn't satisfactory... :/ I tried I tried I swear.**

**Again, I have no internet so I (out of desperation to update for you all) literally posted this using my shitty 3G connection on my phone. L0L L1F3.**

**xx**

**henderlover**


	7. Having Fun

**So I'm just really happy with everyone right now.**

**I've gotten more than fifty reviews in just six chapters. That's almost half the amount of reviews I got by the end of my last story—with more than 30 chapters.**

**30 chapters.**

**Anyways. Thank you all so much, and a shout out to all of you who reviewed the last chapter, including: KEALY KAMES, Love and Heartz, Kamesplus61, XxxAnimaniacxxX, Moonbeam-987, TeagsieBabe85, 22random ninja22. You are all wonderful.**

**Chapter 7:**

* * *

"Great! So come in like, an hour or two. Whenever," Dak bounces up and down with excitement. "See ya there!" he waves and turns to leave the store.

Once he's gone, I'm left standing in the middle of the store with nothing to do, so I decide to leave and go get ready at the house.

"Wait! Kendall!" Carlos calls out to me while the customer he's helping is in the dressing room.

"Hm?" I turn.

"Do you want a ride to Dak and Jett's?" he asks, stopping behind the rack of bathing suits in the front of the store. I stop and consider his offer for a moment; still kind of shocked I accepted an invite to a party.

"Sure, thanks," I nod, continuing on out to the boardwalk. I walk down for a while; contemplating on if I should ask James if he was planning on going, or if I should let it go. My mind pushed me to let it go, but part of me decided I should be confident and go ask. I smile, loving the newfound confidence this 'quest' was giving me, and I walk towards the bike shop where I knew James would be.

Only a few stores away, I'm weaving through the people on the boardwalk before I stop in my tracks. I've found James, all right. He's sitting on a bench with his head in his hands, as someone is talking to him, the boy's back facing me. _Is he all right? Should I go over there—?_

I recognized the boy talking to him as Will Blakeson. I take a sharp breath in, before taking a step back so the crowds on the boardwalk conceal me from James or Will's sight. I watch as Will continues to talk to him—before he sits down on the bench next to James. He continues to speak to James, before he looks up and meets Will's eyes and nods. Will starts rubbing James' back as I feel my breath hitch, before I step back more and bump into a smaller woman.

"Sorry," I mumble, my eyes going right back to James and Will. Will leans his head on James' shoulder, closes his eyes and continues to rub James' back.

I knew it was stupid—thinking James and I might actually be in a true relationship at some point, but I couldn't help but let my eyes travel down to my shoes. _He had said he liked me, hadn't he? He said he chose me, said he couldn't stay away from me, that our kisses meant something to him. So why is he with Will right now? His ex?_

"Hey Kendall?" I look up and find Camille staring at me.

"What?" I snap, before regretting it. "Sorry," I shrug. "Just had a moment."

"Right," she smiles. "You dropped these in the store," she holds out her hand, my car keys resting in her palm. I wasn't even sure why I had them with me in the first place, but I was grateful she had found them before I knew I lost them. "Also, Carlos wanted me to say he'd be coming to get you in like, half an hour." I nod, not letting my eyes return to James and Will, and give away to Camille what or who I was looking at. "He hopes it's not too early, but it works out for him."

"No, that's perfect."

Anything to get James off of my mind right now.

* * *

"They've lived together here for only two weeks," Carlos pulls into a driveway in an apartment complex, referring to Dak and Jett.

"What's the point if they're going to college in the fall?" I ask as Carlos parks in an open space across from the building and unbuckles his seatbelt.

"Dak's parents are moving out of town in the fall, he wanted to be able to come back here." _Well, it makes sense. _I follow suit by unbuckling my own seatbelt, and open the car door to step outside. The apartment complex has four apartments in it, right on the beach. The building itself looks nice, it was painted a dark blue, fitting in with the ocean water a short distance away.

I could tell which apartment was Dak and Jett's right away as we crossed the parking area towards the complex—there were a bunch of bikes laying around in the open garage next to the very last door.

"Well, this is it," Carlos opens the door without ringing and holds it open for me. "But I should warn you—" Carlos is cut off immediately by a quick and bright flashing light.

"Damnit, Dak!" Carlos growls, we both stumble backwards on the little sidewalk leading up to the door.

"Gotcha guys!" I hear Dak's voice—but I can't see him due to the fact that there is a flashing light remaining in my eyes. "This one's a good one."

"Fuck, I can't see, asshole," Carlos stumbles around, grabbing on to me for support. It takes us a moment to regain our eyesight before I see Dak grinning at a small digital camera in his hands.

"Sorry, I'm just documenting the moments. We only have so many more weeks together," Dak gives a cheesy pout before turning and smiling at me.

"Two months, actually. And the entire yearbook was full of documented moments, thanks to you. The candid page was all just of us," Carlos grumbles.

"Glad you could make it, Kendall!" Dak ignores Carlos' complaint and pats my shoulder. "Right this way, boys," he motions.

"I know the way," Carlos grumbles and walks past him up the stairs right inside the doorway.

"Lighten up, babe," Dak chuckles.

"Don't call me that," Carlos shouts over his shoulder from the top of the stairs.

"Drama queen," Dak chuckles. "Come on in." He waits for me to pass him before closing the door and following me up the stairs.

When I get to the top, the living room is full of a couple people I recognize. Soon a couple more come from what I assume to be is the kitchen. Some of the people included Logan and Camille (obviously), a blonde girl who I had seen only once or twice before, a dark haired girl with a red streak running through it, and a couple other boys who I assume work at the shop or ride at the jump park.

About ten or twelve people are here, which was a good number—easy to manage. The walls were lined with couches, picture frames hanging filled with goofy pictures. I recognized Carlos in one of them, Logan in another. The one wall though, directly across from the top of the staircase, was a window looking out over the beach behind the building. From a distance, I could see the lifeguard chair I had woken up on with James yesterday morning. _There he is again, in my brain. James._

"There's beer in the kitchen," Dak informs me when he comes up behind on the stairs. I glance around, seeing everyone was indeed holding a red cup with alcoholic liquids of some form inside. "Help yourself." I nod before walking over to the kitchen area, Carlos following behind. We walked in together and froze when we heard a recognizable voice.

"Anyways, so I was with this drunk bitch last night—" Jett Stetson, standing right in the middle of the kitchen surrounded by a couple of guys I'd never seen before. He glances over and freezes, seeing Carlos and I standing right next to each other.

"Then what happened?" one of the guys standing around him urged him to continue. I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms, not removing my eyes from Jett's. _Please do continue, _I hope my gaze pushes the message across.

I noticed Carlos turning to leave out of the corner of my eye, so I grab his arm and stop him.

"You probably know the rest," Jett succumbs to the pressure I'm forcing upon him; I was tired of giving in to the pressure he put on me. "Excuse me for a moment," he moves away from the group and through a doorway on the other side of the kitchen from Carlos and I.

"You okay?" I turn and look at Carlos, who is staring straight ahead with a blank expression. He nods before pulling me forward to get beer for the both of us.

Carlos and I stick together for an hour or two on the couch, listening to Jett boast about his accomplishments in the sex-department, scoring with both 'chicks' and 'dudes'. Everytime Jett names a new girl or boy, I notice Carlos cringing out of the corner of my eye.

"You know, I think I'm over it. It just hurts me when he talks about the other people he's hurting, like he did with me," he whispers in my ear, his expression as he watches Jett finally warming up a bit. Just then, when Carlos was finally opening up to me, my phone decides to ring. I felt stupid, I only answered quickly because I thought it would be possible that it was James—before I realize James doesn't have my number. When I answer, though, another man in my life who confuses me talks into the phone. It was Kevin.

"Kendall!" Kevin shouts through the line.

I hold up a finger to Carlos before getting up from the couch and making my way out to the deck behind the kitchen.

"What's up, Kevin?" I ask, wondering why he was calling me.

"I'm home!"

At first I thought he said 'I'm a gnome', or 'I have a comb', which would both be more expected coming from Kevin than 'I'm home'.

"Really?" I ask, confused.

"Yes! And guess what?" he seems super excited.

"What?" I roll my eyes.

"I'm in love!" I can practically hear him bouncing on the end of the other end of the line.

"I don't believe you," I ashamed to say that was my initial though and response.

"Hold on," I hear some crackling on the other end of the line, soon I'm hearing my mother's voice.

"Yes, your brother is home and in love," she says dully, as if she'd been reciting it to herself for billions of times. I would too, if I were stuck in her position. There's some more crackling before Kevin is talking to me again.

"See? And I'm jet-lagging like crazy!" he announces, sounding a little proud of the fact that he wasn't sleeping right. "I don't even know what time it is!"

I turn and look through the sliding glass door into the kitchen to look at the clock above the stove. It's almost midnight.

"It's almost midnight, Kev," I tell him.

"Oh, really? Huh, weird. Anyways. I'm going to bring Laura…"

_So the poor girl my brother is in love with's name is Laura…good luck Laura._

"Down to meet dad, Mercedes and the little munchkin, so give them a heads up will ya?" Kevin continues.

"Sure," I roll my eyes. "Sounds good."

"Alrighty, love you little brother," Kevin says and hangs up before I have the chance to respond.

I sigh as I walk back into the kitchen and pass a hand through my face.

"All I'm saying is no one should be this anti-social," I stop when I hear Dak speaking.

"I agree, dude, when I asked my step-mom if James was planning on going tonight…" Jett cuts in. "She said he told her he had plans with someone else for the night."

_Probably Will._

"Said something about errands, crossing some stuff of a list or something, I don't know," Jett continues. _So maybe it wasn't Will. Maybe it was me. _I smile stupidly as I lean against the wall and close my eyes, thanking the lord that I had hope with James.

"Did she say who?" _Logan's voice._

"No, James said she didn't know who it was," Jett answers.

"So it couldn't have been Will," Carlos cuts in this time.

"Ew, fuck no, there's no way James would ever get back together with that piece of shit," Jett defends his step-brother. My heart flies when there are further confirmations that James was planning on spending the night with me again.

"What makes you so sure?" _Fuck you, whoever asked that._

"They've been broken up for months shithead," I hear Dak chuckle. _Thank you, Dak._

"That doesn't mean anything," _Again, fuck you._

I open my eyes and watch the ceiling fan in the kitchen circle around and around.

"Well now it does, Will came to the shop today and asked to speak to James in private," I hear Dak tell everyone. "Will has a new boyfriend, and he wanted to tell James in person—as if he thought it would hurt James," there's a bunch of snorts and laughing throughout the living room.

"How do you know all this?" Camille asks, loving the scandalous rumor.

"I may or may not have been eavesdropping when they were sitting on a bench together and Will wouldn't leave him alone…" Dak laughs mischievously. _So that's what they were doing on the bench. James didn't give a fuck about what Will was doing, all the back rubbing and leaning-on-the-shoulder-ing. _All anger and sadness I had previously held inside of me towards James and Will is finally set free, I feel myself quickly setting back to crushing-hard mode on James.

"So what kind of errands is he doing, do you think?" someone asks. _I know exactly what errands. _"What's this list he mentioned?"

My eyes scan the kitchen for a phone book. When I find it, I run my finger through until I find the local Laundromat's number.

"Hey, Gustavo?" I talk to the hefty man I'd met the night before when he answers the phone. "Is James there?"

"Yeah, he is, here," there's some crinkling before I hear the sweet voice I'd missed all day.

"You're missing out on some _great _green apple pie right now," he says as soon as I'm on the phone—he knew it would be me.

"Yeah, I got dragged to this hot-dog party," I say, fully aware that he was invited and knew about it.

"Really," he says dully, confirming his un-interested view on the party.

"Yup," I pop the 'p', closing the phone book. "Apparently it's a rite of passage. You know, like watching Star Wars and Lord of the Rings," I tell him, repeating what he told me last night about the things that _must_ get done in the teenage years.

"Hm, who told you that?" he laughs sarcastically.

"I don't know, some guy," I flirt.

"So let me guess. Since it's…" a pause. "Almost twelve-thirty, Dak is getting up and offering everyone hot dogs."

I turn to peek through the doorway into the living room, and see Dak standing up. "I'm going to start cooking the dogs, which lucky duck wants the first one?" he announces.

"You're correct," I chuckle into my phone.

"Logan and Jo are making out," James makes another assumption. My eyes search for Logan, before they land on a morphed couple on the couch. There's the blonde girl—Jo I guess, straddling Logan and they're indeed making out, just like James assumed.

"Wow, go on," I dare him to make another prediction.

"And my stepbrother," he pauses, giving me the chance to search for Jett. "Is drunk and either telling everyone about my antisocial-ness, or his poor little victims. Which one is it?" Jett is indeed swaying his head around like a drunk person, and talking about last week's 'chicks he scored with'.

"Both," I chuckle. "You know, you're perfect, a baby-whisperer and now you're telling me you're a psychic?"

"I'm not, do you want to hang out tonight?" he finally asks the question I'd been waiting for.

"Yes please," I smile, glad all of the confusion and frustration about Will had been cleared up.

"Be there in ten."

* * *

Almost twenty minutes later, everyone is sitting on the deck, including myself. I'm sitting on the railing next to the grill in a much better mood now, and I can tell no one understands why.

"This happens all the time," Carlos' words are slurred while he eats another load of potato salad. "You guys get me here, and I get drunk, and you always make fun of me."

I couldn't help but laugh at poor Carlos, who was pretty much gone at this point.

"'Litos, you wanted to be here," Dak chuckles from his position in front of the grill.

"But this summer was supposed to be awesome, you know," Carlos mumbles, pushing the potato salad around with his fork. "What happened to all of us going to Vegas…"

"Or Cancun," Camille points out, leaning against Logan on the bench seated at the table.

"Or the Bahamas," Logan chimes in.

"Yeah, those places," Carlos sighs. "We were supposed to be…" Carlos frowns, unable to word his next statement.

"Having some fucking fun?" I smile, knowing exactly what he meant. Kevin's picture frame was pictured in my mind right before I said it aloud.

"Yeah," Carlos snapped his fingers and pointed at me. "That's exactly it."

"Everyone say cheese!" Dak surprises everyone with his tiny digital camera again, and almost everyone on the deck raises a hand up to cover their faces except for me—I'm still not used to the impulsive picture taking Dak does all the time.

"Dak no," a drunken Carlos protests. "You promised no more after the yearbook was released."

"That didn't stop him from taking one downstairs," I pointed out to Carlos, who then sighs.

"Okay fine, but don't complain when you don't have any pictures to reminisce about this summer when you were 'having some fucking fun'," Dak air quotes the last bit, quoting myself and the empty picture frame in my room at Mercedes' house.

"When can we start having real fun?" Jett's words are slurred as well. I slide off of my spot on the railing and stand up as the entire deck goes silent. I figure everyone is just thinking about Jett's question, and coming up with an answer, but I'm wrong.

I turn and see James standing in the open sliding glass doorway, looking back at everyone.

"Don't look at me, I just wanted a hot dog," he shrugs. Carlos, Logan, and Camille's mouths are all wide-open, jaws basically touching the floor. Jett seems unaffected, maybe because the alcohol was affecting his brain too greatly—but everyone else on the porch is in shock.

"Right! Uh, dogs! We have plenty! I over-cooked," Dak rushes around the small table on the deck and pulls together a bun and a hot dog before throwing it on a plate and handing it to James.

"Thank you," James smiles, and even Dak isn't sure what to do at this point. I stand awkwardly, watching as the boy I could very well be falling for takes on the stares and questioning looks, standing strong.

"You're welcome. We have more. Like, potato chips, potato salad, baked beans—"

"Dak, shut up," Carlos pulls Dak down to sit next to him on the bench. "You're being annoying."

"Sorry," Dak blushes. "We also have popsicles," he adds on one last food item for James to consider in a more subdued tone.

"Great," James stays standing with the plate in his hands.

"So, James," Logan starts, breaking the awkward silence while James starts to chew on the hot-dog. "How's work at the shop going? I hear you guys are still coming up with a name?"

"Yup," he takes another bite, chews, and then swallows. "It's still in the discussion phase—Dak and Jett here keep coming up with weird names. It's hard to decide."

"I like the Chain Gang, personally," Jett butts in—the first opinion of his that I've heard that has actual substance. When he states opinions for other things it's usually about what bra size he likes the best on girls, or how bleached is too bleached when it came to bleach blonde hair on people.

"But it's also a skate shop," James rejects his idea. "Gotta respect the skaters. Skateboards don't have chains."

"Just glue them, on I don't care," Jett is on the verge of passing out—I can tell he's had a bit too much to drink. "Does anyone want to smoke with me?" he randomly pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket as well as a lighter.

"Ew, no," Camille squeals. "Don't do that," she tries to lean over Logan to grab the pack of cigarettes out of Jett's hands from her position next to Logan but fails. Jett pulls a cigarette out and cups his hand over the end of it and lights it.

"Why not?" Jett takes a drag and lets the smoke flow out of the hole he makes in his lips.

"Because," Camille frowns and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Because it's bad for you, dude," Dak sighs as Carlos rests his head on Dak's shoulder to close his eyes.

"It's my house," Jett protests, taking another drag and leaning back to blow the smoke straight up into the air.

"Our house," Dak corrects him. I watch as James finishes his hot dog and places his empty plate on top of another used one on the table in front of us—completely uninvolved in the argument.

"Dude stop your whining," Jett stands up and pulls the cigarette out from in between his lips. "It's not like I'm going to get cancer and die like—" I freeze as I watch Jett's eyes fly open, his face going a dark shade of red. Everyone else shoots up from his or her lazy position, either sitting or slouching around on the deck. I can see James stiffen in his stance in front of everyone else.

"I didn't…James I'm..." Jett isn't sure what to say, no one is at the moment.

An extremely awkward silence fell, as everyone watched Jett go from relaxed and opinionated about his smoking habits, all the way to embarrassed, shocked and ashamed. Clearly everyone here was so used to not having James around—Eric was spoken about freely unless James was there, and from what I could tell, James was never there.

I watch as Carlos and Dak exchange desperate and helpless looks, Camille and Logan doing the exact same. Everyone else was waiting for what would happen next, curious, intrigued, all while scared. From his position, James stayed put, silent. The awkwardness surrounding him was so tangible you could cut it with a sharp knife, or in this case—maybe with an axe.

With everything that was going on in this moment, I felt the most guilt. Why? It was completely my fault he was here, he was perfectly fine eating pie with Gustavo in the back of a Laundromat only minutes before he came here. It was all my fault that any and all of this was happening right now to him.

I had no clue what to do until my eyes landed on Carlos' full plate of potato salad.

Now when I say this was an impulse decision, I'm most _fucking definitely_ telling the truth. What I do next is one of those stupid and risky things you'd see in a movie—in a really dangerous and sticky situation, a character plays it off with a prank or a joke.

I reach down in front of Carlos and take a handful of the potato salad, before turning and launching all of it at James.

It landed square on his forehead, rolling slowly and sloppily down his face until chunks of potato hit the floor with an audible 'plop'. I can hear the sudden and sharp inhaled breaths from around the porch as everyone watches in horror.

James turns to me, face unreadable. I can tell everyone is now watching me in complete and utter shock, scared of what the future holds for me. James blinks before grinning—one of the most miraculous and beautiful moments in my life.

"Oh," James keeps grinning. "It is _so_ on."

Fortunately for James, _and unfortunately for me, _I never had the quickest reflexes. What can I say? I never played any sports. It only takes a split second for all of the baked beans from the huge pot sitting on the table to be poured over my head—the sticky substance running through my hair and dripping down to my nose.

At this point I think all is forgotten about the Eric comment with James and I, but not with everyone else. Jett even dropped his cigarette at some point—which started this entire situation, to watch the food fly and watch me falling harder and harder for James with each hot dog bun he throws at me.

I pick up a bag of Cheetos lying on the deck and use it as a shield, before reaching into the bag and chucking artificial cheese puffs at James individually.

"Hey!" Dak shouts. "That was my breakfast for the next week!"

I notice Carlos standing up, probably to put an end to the madness unfolding on Dak and Jett's back porch.

"Lighten up, dickwad," Carlos laughs before taking a bunch of potato chips and crushing them in his hand before sprinkling the crumbs all over Dak's head.

"What the fuck?" Logan laughs at Dak, Carlos, James and myself.

"You too!" Carlos reaches for the rest of potato salad I used to initiate the fight and throws it at Logan. Logan ducks though, and laughs at Carlos for missing.

Not Camille though.

James and I stop our food throwing when we see Camille slowly rise from her sitting position on the bench, with an unimaginable death glare stuck on her face, directed straight at Carlos. Logan looks like he's scared shitless, but Carlos grins right back at her.

"Oops," he chuckles, keeping that signature grin on his tan face.

The glob of potato salad Carlos had aimed at Logan completely missed its target, and hit Camille straight in the chest, so chunks of onions and mayonnaise were running down her shirt in between her boobs.

"Oh shit," James, Logan, Jett, Dak, and myself all say in unison, everyone else still silent.

"Hell. To. The. No," is the last thing I hear from Camille before she picks up a beer can from the table and starts shaking it and points it at Carlos, finger threatening to lift the small opener on the top of the can.

"You better fucking run, _little bitch_," Camille grins before she jumps over the table and starts running towards Carlos. Carlos squeals like a little girl before running down the stairs that lead from the deck down to the beach.

Dak and Jett are now exchanging rapid fire with leftover chips and nuts, while Logan, Jo, and a couple of other people are all throwing relish, leftover baked beans and other foods at each other.

I'm too busy laughing while watching the food fight unfold around me to notice James pulling the box of Popsicles out of the small cooler sitting next to the wall of the apartment. I grab the bag of potato chips and run into the house, dodging other people who were fighting in the living room with mustard and mayonnaise.

I felt the cool pieces of the Popsicles hitting my back as I threw chips relentlessly over my shoulder, hoping I was achieving something with them. It's too late before I realize James has me trapped in the corner of the kitchen. I'm stuck in between him, the stove, and the cabinets.

"Okay, time out," I hold my hands up, breathing heavily.

"There aren't any time outs in food fights," he launches a grape Popsicle chunk at me, hitting me on the shoulder only to knock off some baked beans remnants.

"James," I pant out, taking advantage of the time he uses to rip open another Popsicle wrapper. "I'm really sorry about Eric."

"Thanks," he smiles at me, and I can tell he definitely means it.

Outside the kitchen I can hear Dak shrieking as someone hits him with an ice cube. The battles continue on around us, but in this kitchen, it was just us, and I felt a change after I apologized for James' lost best friend. Not a bad change, a good change. Tonight was like any of the other nights I'd spent with James, sure, but this was different.

A _good_ different.

It was all coming together, and I could _really see_ myself brushing the potato salad off of his forehead and out of his hair with my bean and chip-crumb covered finger tips, while he reaches his sticky Popsicle hands up to my hips.

I imagine how his lips would taste; regardless of the amounts of foods had hit his face and mouth area in the past ten minutes. It was all just so real, and before I know it everything is out in the open with James.

"Is it possible that I might actually be falling in love with you, after knowing you for only a few days?" the words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I reach up to brush the potato salad out of his hair and off of his forehead just like I had imagined seconds ago. He then reaches his sticky Popsicle hands up to not my hips, but to my face.

"It's possible alright," he leans in closer to my face, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"How do you know?" I feel like I'm going crazy, praying to god this is what love feels like. Insanity? Maybe not so much. But love? Yes. I have to physically restrain myself from tilting my head to kiss him, so instead I wait for his answer by putting my hand over his resting on my cheek.

"Because I think I'm falling in love with you too," he whispers, before I smash my lips against his.

Everything was falling together now, perfectly and simply—who knew all it took was a handful of potato salad?

"Hey, lovebirds," our intense kiss was interrupted by Dak, holding up his camera, the lens pointed right at us "Smile."

James pulls me closer and I wrap my arms around his neck and smile at Dak, face only millimeters away from James'. I hear the automated shutter on the camera click and Dak turns away. James and I immediately go back to kissing each other, harder than before.

The picture Dak took of us was a spur of the moment thing, and I felt it was likely I'd never see the picture again. Even if I did, I don't think the picture would ever capture or show everything I was feeling, the passion and love I was radiating here in James' arms. But there was always a chance, and if I ever do get a copy of the picture, I know I have the perfect place for it.

In a cheap, silver frame from some place in Europe—with an engravement at the bottom that says:

"**Having some fucking fun."**

* * *

**Like it? Tell me! Hate it? Tell me!**

**Please review :)**

**xx**

**henderlover**

**PS all credits go to Sarah Dessen. :)**


	8. Helping Hands

**I think insomnia is starting to kick in again for me—I'm just staying up all-night and writing you these chapters... :) cause you all deserve them! I don't mean to update so often...but...hey... I'll write it if I can ;)**

**I'm not all that happy with this chapter, if it stinks PLEASE BEAR WITH ME. I rewrote it, like, 8 times.**

**It makes me both happy and sad to know that I will never be able to top the food fight chapter :) thank you for all the amazing reviews on it, especially from: XxxAnimaniacxxX, Kamesplus61, SWACGleekFreak, I'mJustAVirusInsideYourHead, KEALY KAMES, Love and Heartz, Kamesluv315, Moonbeam-987. **

**Chapter 8:**

* * *

"Seriously?"

That's all I can say as James pulls us into a parking lot, right next to a lit-up club at eleven forty-five at night. _The _club, that Camille never seemed to shut up about whenever the three tried to figure out what they wanted to do after work.

_Club Rush._

Over the course of the last week, hanging out all night had become a regular and normal thing for James and I. Last night at Dak and Jett's house, it had officially become a cemented thing. We'd spend the summer nights together, every night leading up to the day I leave for Elon. _But this_, was _not_ normal.

"A club? Really?" I already don't want to do this; it only takes the small group of people standing outside drunk to make me decide.

"It's part of your quest," James turns off the car, insisting we keep moving.

"Hey, this isn't really your scene either," I point out.

"You didn't know me before last year did you?" James smirks.

"Fine," I grumble, before he takes my hand.

"I didn't think so," James chuckles.

"But I don't have an ID," this is my last attempt at getting out of this club situation.

"You don't have to have one, I gotcha covered." _Of course I don't. _He pulls out an ID of his own—fake of course. He wasn't 21 yet—it had to be fake.

"You're unbelievable," I mutter as he pulls me along, our fingers laced together. Just because I had announced my feelings for him didn't mean _this_ was okay.

"But you like me, Kenny," he purrs in the middle of our weaving through the crowds standing outside. He gets us up to the man at the door, who is huge in comparison to James and myself. I mean, I'm tall—James is too, but this guy is taller. And wider.

"IDs please," he uncrosses his arms as he holds out his hands. James places the fake ID in the large man's meaty palm, before the man sends me a look.

"He forgot his," James grins, keeping a calm and relaxed expression.

"No ID, no exception," the man looks down at James' ID and hands it back to James. "You can go in, he can't," he points his sausage like fingers at me.

_At least we know the fake ID works._

"Look, we're not going to drink anything. Give us five minutes."

"No IDs," the man narrows his eyes at us as he points to the sign above the door that reads out the same statement. "No exceptions."

"James," I tug at James' hand. "It's fine. I can go." James decides, however, that he will have none of that.

I watch in horror as James leans in to the man and whispers, "What if I told you this is part of a quest," he pulls back and raises his eyebrows at the man.

"What kind of quest?" the big guy leans back, expression relaxing. _No fucking way, were quests really that significant to these people?_

"He's never done anything. No prom, no parties, basically no high-school or teenage life." I do my best to look culturally disabled—but I'm pretty sure I just come off as retarted when the bouncer scans my appearance, peeling back my simple layers of thought.

"We're just making up for lost time, and this is on the list."

"Club Rush is on the list?" The man's disapproving expression finally returns back to his face where it belongs.

"No," James frowns. "Hitting _a_ club is on the list. Not specifically this one. It just so happens to be convenient."

The man considers James' request, which I can't believe. _Who's stupid enough to fall for a quest anyways?_

"Five minutes. Stay away from the bar," he finally decides.

_Oh, right. Him._

"Maybe even four," James grins at the bouncer, pulling me through the doors and into the loud and sweaty room. I can honestly say I've never been in this kind of atmosphere—nor did I _ever_ want to be again.

"How did you do that?" I stop James.

"I told you!" he shouts over the loud and bumping music. "No one can resist a quest—or those green eyes," he turns and drops my hands when we're at the edge of the dancefloor to look at me, his eyes locked on my own.

"R-right," I stutter, letting his gaze take over my brain.

"Shall we?" he holds out a hand as a new song starts to play, this one more loud but less obnoxious than the last. I hesitate to take his hand—but as a sign of trust I give in and let him lead us through the crowds. There's tons of noisy and annoying people shouting over the music with their drunken words and jumbled up thoughts. I barely succeed in stepping over the feet and random purses on the ground, almost crushing a glass undoubtedly filled with alcohol that someone stupidly left there.

"Here," James turns around and grins at me when we're near the center of the floor. He grabs my waist and starts moving them against his to the beat—a feeling like no other.

"I really can't dance, James," I admit while throwing my arms around him, my fingers meeting each other on the back of his neck.

"That's alright," he leans down to whisper in my ear. "Lucky for you you're dancing with a pro."

I can't help but throw my head back and laugh, more out of nerves than anything else. "Last dance of the night, it's already tomorrow," the DJ on the stage tries to make a joke, and gets a couple 'woops' out of response from the drunken crowd. It's midnight already.

"This is insane," I finally say when the song slows down. James stops the hip movements to turn it into a sweet slow dance.

"It is," he shrugs. "But it's worth doing once. And _only once_."

I smile and then, in the middle of Club Rush, he leans down and kisses me. I hadn't been prepared for this at all—my mind was spinning all day about what he had said to me at the party last night, what we had said to each _other. _

I finally realize he's kissing me after zoning out, and kiss him right back. It's not like we haven't done this before—I mean, we most definitely have. This time, though, it felt like the first all over again. The first time when I was sitting on a bench with him, trying to get him to leave me alone after his jackass stepbrother had assaulted me out of nowhere because he was being a jealous prick.

He tucks his hands under my shirt and pulls my hips closer with the amazing skin-to-skin contact, and I finally get to run my fingers through his hair like I'd been dreaming of up until now.

When we pull apart, the song is winding down and nearing the end. It's funny though, because no one on the dance floor moves from their embraces—they wait until the very last second of the song is squeezed out through the speakers until they separate their bodies. I rest my head in the crook of James' neck, slowly kissing the skin over his throat until the song is indeed finished. He sighs happily before I lift my head up again.

"So what'd you think?" he asks as we're moving back towards the doors and back to his car.

"I think I'm one step closer to completing a quest," I smile before getting in the car. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he reaches over and holds my hand while we're driving back to Colby, as I think about what the DJ had said. Yes, another day was over, and a new day was to begin.

Call me _crazy_, but I had a feeling that today wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

I wake up at noon today, exactly twelve hours since James and I were at Club Rush. I half-expect for my ears to tune into Kenzie's crying at this hour—but I hear something else. Another sound of crying, just a little more…_strangled._

I get up and pull a shirt on to walk down the hall into the nursery. To my surprise, Kenzie is fast asleep in her crib. I close the door quietly before sneaking my way down the stairs. I poke my head into the kitchen, where I find Mercedes sitting at the island with her knees pulled up to her chest, sobbing quietly, her back facing me. I sigh quietly before forcing out a fake cough in an attempt to make my entrance into the kitchen obvious so I don't 'surprise' her.

"Good morning," I greet her, making a beeline for the fridge. She remains silent, but lets out a couple of sniffles.

"Morning Kendall," she drops her legs down in front of the stool, sits up and wipes under her eyes when I turn back to her with the orange juice carton in hand.

"Is something wrong?" I ask, pretending I have no clue that she was crying before.

"Oh, no, nothing," she sighs before reaching for a box of tissues in the center of the island. I raise my eyebrows, deciding it was none of my business, and she didn't want it to be mine either.

"Alright," I sigh as I pour myself a glass of juice and return the juice carton back to its home in the fridge. I take a seat across from her at the island, remaining silent as she chews on her nails and avoids eye contact.

"Oh Kendall," she finally gives in to her discomfort and cries. I'm not exactly sure what to do, so I sit and wait it out. After what seems like minutes, she's pulling herself together and staring at me—kind of creepy really, but mostly saddening. I've seen her like this before, but she was crying over the baby the last time. Something tells me that she's not crying over Kenzie this time.

"Your father left this morning for a museum meeting thing that he claims could change his career," she sobs. She's a mess. "We got into this fight, I only asked if he could stay home and help a little more with the baby."

I keep my eyes on the empty juice glass in front of me.

"He started yelling, and I started yelling back—oh god, I'm sorry Kendall," she covers her face and cries into her hands, sounding strangled again like I had heard earlier. I sigh before getting up and setting my glass in the sink while Mercedes advances on to louder and longer sobs—sounding like a crying cat. The poor woman. I move around the counter and stand behind her, watching her body shake uncontrollably and her shoulders bounce around.

I sigh again before leaning down and wrapping my arms around her neck from behind. She leans back into my embrace and cries more, the hands that covered her face now sat on my arms, holding them there.

"It's okay," I kiss the top of her head. I had to admit, as much as I hadn't liked the woman before this summer, I'm now beginning to actually like her—she's been more of a parent than both my mother and father combined seemed to be lately. "He's an idiot."

She shakes her head and cries harder. The worst part of this situation? I don't let go of her for almost five minutes. The old Kendall would have walked away and let her cry.

"You should head to work, I hear they're having a rough day there," she sobs after a while. For the millionth time since I've been here, Mercedes doesn't let anyone help her out—doesn't think about herself, will not let anyone comfort her.

"Alright," I nod, watching her attempt to pull herself together. "Are you sure you don't want me to—"

"Yes, go ahead, please," she nearly begs me to leave her. And with that, I'm headed out the door into the rain with a pair of skinny jeans hugging my legs tight and a sweatshirt.

* * *

When I get to Inlet Outlet, I immediately bury myself in work and avoid talking to anyone. I allow myself to think about James, money, inventory and numbers. _Nothing else_. I focus on the numbers on the check registers in front of me and sink into the world of finance, almost going nonstop until Carlos bursts in with an emergency six hours after I arrive at the shop.

"There's a chick here who said he had us order in twelve pairs of those special flip flops last week…do you know if the order's come in?"

_Since when was there such a thing as special flip-flops? And who the fuck orders twelve pairs of them?_

"Nope," I scrunch my eyebrows together when I realize Carlos' interruption encouraged my brain to stop its functioning. "Why don't you call Mercedes, though?"

"I don't know, I don't want to wake little Kenzie up if she's sleeping."

"I doubt she's sleeping, Carlos," I pick up the store phone on the desk and dial the house number I'd somehow managed to memorize and hand it to Carlos. He takes it, looking guilty, before pressing it up to his ear and leaning against the wall.

"Hey Mercedes," he greets my stepmother on the phone before I lean back in the swivel-desk chair and try to get my brain focused on the numbers spread out in front of me again.

I finally feel like I can get my groove back on with all of my work and hunch myself over the calculator to start punching in numbers again.

"I know, I'm really sorry to bother you, yeah…are you alright? Oh you just sounded like you…. Oh, alright," Carlos speaks into the phone.

Outside I listen as Logan talks to some customers about the pros and cons of a certain type of surfboard before I clear the calculator—lost in my thoughts again.

"Look I'm really sorry…wait, _that's_ Kenzie? Oh yeah, she's _really_ crying, I can tell. Anyways…again I'm sorry to bother you but I was just wondering if you knew about the giant flip-flop order that came in? Yeah…"

_James, _I think, punching a number into the calculator. _Tonight, all night, _I hit the plus sign. _Flip-flops, not my problem, _I find the subtotal I was looking for, then the total.  
Carlos finally finishes the conversation on the phone with Mercedes.

"She said they're in the storeroom…that large box that's sitting on the table in there…or at least that's what I think she said. Hard to tell with all of the crying going on," he sighs.

"Yeah, Kenzie can definitely let it rip," I say, clearing the calculator and straightening up the newly ready-to-file papers on the desk.

"Not Kenzie," Carlos watches me. "Mercedes was crying. I mean, she said she wasn't, but you can tell she was."

_Mercedes was crying again?_

"Is she alright?" Carlos presses on for more information. _No, honestly. She isn't._

At that moment, a new crowd of customers chooses to open the front door—I can tell by the chimes followed by the loud chatter. At_ least _six new customers.

"Fuck, I'll go help them. Could you grab that box for me?" He doesn't wait for an answer. I wait until he leaves before I say to myself:

"Sure, cause I'm seeing my baby soon and I'm gonna be a happy kid."

I head back to the storeroom—a dark, cold, room that somewhat represents an old person's basement, filled with different types of clothing and bathing suits, lots of surfboards, and boxes from the new shipments. I find the box of flip-flops before lugging it back out to the floor and sliding it on to the register counter. Carlos gives me a grateful look and a wave before I push the door open and walk home.

* * *

When I get home, I'm sort of hoping to hear Kenzie's screaming rather than Mercedes' or anything else, but instead I hear nothing at all. Kind of haunting, really. The entire house is dark, except for a light in the kitchen and the tiny bit of light from the sun outside, which is now fully hidden behind the ocean.

I stand still and silent, waiting for something, _anything. _I hear a faint whimper, coming out of the living room. I follow it wearily, not sure if I'm prepared for what's coming next.  
The living room is dark, so dark that I almost can't see Mercedes at first. She's sitting on the couch, crying again, with a silent Kenzie in her lap. It isn't the usual sobbing and wailing that I heard from her this morning, but more of a silent weep—slow enough to give me saddened chills up and down my spine. I almost turn around and let her have the moment for herself, but I know I can't. I'd feel too guilty to do something like that to poor Mercedes.

So I sit down next to the couch, unacknowledged by my stepmother.

"Mer?" I decide to use her nickname that I hear Carlos using all the time, and touch her leg gently and comfortingly. She continues to stare out in front of her, teardrops rolling down and landing on the blanket loosely wrapped around Kenzie. "Give me the baby."  
Mercedes finally acknowledges my presence by turning her head to look at me, a look so dead and scary that I almost don't recognize her. She shakes her head before turning and looking straight ahead again.

"Please," I insist. She shakes her head again. She's scaring me at this point, so I take the baby from her. She pulls her knees up to her chest and cries—loud and hard, refusing to face me.  
I know I should probably call someone, anyone. My father was out of the question though, and my mom would only gain satisfaction out of knowing about the state Mercedes is currently in. So I stand up with the baby and head into the kitchen, dialing a local number on the keypad of the house phone.

"Gustavo's Laundry and Pie," the familiar heavyset man answers the phone.

"It's Kendall Knight here, I know it's early in the evening but I kind of have an emergency. Well, not really…I know there's a slim chance he's there but is—"

"Kendall?" Thank _god _he's there. Part of me relaxes when James speaks into the phone—I feel the sense of security that was missing.

"Hey," I relax. "Sorry to bother you, but I'm in a bit of a situation."

"Situation?"

"Yeah, I have no idea what to do," I honestly answer.

"What's going on?"

I adjust Kenzie so she's hanging over my shoulder—something I'd found she likes, a step down from the elevator trick.

"Well you see…" I explain everything to James. Everything starting from my father leaving and Mercedes losing it this morning, all the way to now, and how I'm standing in the kitchen with the baby over my shoulder and how I'm scared and confused. As I explain everything, I can hear Mercedes' sobs quietly from the living room, faint and distant, but still going.

"Sit tight," James assures me with a sigh. "I know exactly what to do."

* * *

Only twenty minutes later, I hop up from the island at the sound of a knock on the door. I open the door with the baby in one arm, to see James standing with a tray of four coffees.

"Coffee? Is this going to solve anything?" I smile at him—thankful he'd spared the time to come help me.

"No," he chuckles. "But this is," he steps aside, revealing a woman a tiny bit shorter than I am with short brunette hair, and the same hazel eyes as James.

"Mom, this is Kendall. Kendall, my mom. Brooke Diamond," he introduces me to the woman with a warm smile on her face.

"Thank you for coming," I randomly start my nervous babbling. If only James had told me he was introducing me to a parent, maybe I'd prep myself to actually impress her. But there was no time now, and I was making an absolute fool of myself. "I just don't know what to do," I end my ranting with a sigh of defeat.

Brooke steps in past James and right next to me before she's leaning over Kenzie in my arms.

"How old's the baby?" she asks.

"Six weeks about," I answer. Mrs. Diamond turns to her son.

"Take Kendall upstairs, and show him how to swaddle the baby. Now," she turns to me. "Where's mom?" she asks, looking around the entryway for some kind of answer.

"Living room. She's crying, she wouldn't talk to me… I just—"

"Everything will be fine," Brooke cuts me off. "Trust me."

The weird thing is, when Brooke says this, I _do_ trust her. Even when I let her, a _complete stranger_, walk past me into the living room and sit down next to my hysterical stepmother, I _still_ do. I watch in amazement as she says some things to Mercedes—the miracle is that Mercedes is actually_ listening and nodding_. After a moment, Mercedes lets Mrs. Diamond pull her into he arms, patting her on the back as she finally let everything out, _finally_ letting someone else take care of her.

"Hey," James rests a hand on my shoulder, turning my attention back to him.

"Hi," I smile, still a little shaken up from everything happening so quickly. "Sorry I called you—I know you would have enjoyed eating your pie in peace or something else…"

"Hey, it's fine," James chuckles. "Not exactly the ideal date I was planning on having with you, but it'll do."

I swallow at his choice of words.

"_Date_?" I choke out, extremely giddy and happy on the inside.

"Of course, we have yet to cross of 'go on a spontaneous and crazy first date' on your list," he air quotes 'spontaneous'.

"_Date_," I repeat, dying of embarrassment on the inside.

"Yes," he laughs now, making me blush. I shut him up by standing on my tiptoes and give him a kiss, quick yet passionate enough to make up for the short length of it.

"I'm free tomorrow," I wink when I pull back, taking his hand and leading him up the stairs.

He chuckles from behind me on the stairs.

"It's a _date._"

* * *

**So I gave you some Kames moments, but a tiny bit of mama-drama-for-your-llama ;)**

**I'm not funny.**

**Please review :)**


	9. Changes in the Knights

**I went to a fucking BTR concert last night, and let me TELL YOU, I went bananas. Probably not going to have a voice for the next twenty years, but it was so worth it.**

**Thanks to every single one of you who reviewed :) including: Kamesplus61, icanloveyoumorethanthis, XxxAnimanicaxxX, Moonbeam-987, SpidermanInPlaid, Love and Heartz, Kimmie and the lovely KEALY KAMES.**

**You guys rock my world, my covergirls/boys. ;) I'm such a cheeseball. **

**I hope you guys don't get bored with these chapters, they're quite lengthy, but I hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 9:**

* * *

Apparently the date was going to have to wait.

"It's just like I'd imagined it to be in here," James smiles as we walk into the nursery with Kenzie in my arms.

When you look at Mercedes, the nursery is a complete reflection of her looks, attitude, and personality. Pretty, bright, cheery and simple. Before Kenzie was born, she'd send me e-mails with her plans for the nursery, pink walls and pink everythings with small brown accents. No other colors would be allowed in the room. Just pink and brown—of course she got her way.

"Sorry, it's really stuffy up here," I grumble as I lay Kenzie down in her crib and try to force the window open on the opposite wall.

Downstairs my stepmother's crying is audible through the floor and walls, the whole house is going crazy tonight. I let out a sigh as I lean against the windowsill, before I feel a pair of muscular arms wrapped around my waist and a chin propped itself on my shoulder.

"I just didn't know what to do," I admit, looking down at the darkened sand below from the view in the window. Call me crazy, but I only just notice the couple of tears in my eyes, threatening to drop.

"_**Shh, it's okay. Everything's going to be fine."**_

James soothes me with words so familiar they almost slap me in the face with a brick. They push me back to the ripe age of ten when my parents were still hanging together by a thread—fighting their ways through the night. I shudder, thinking of the nights my insomnia had initially begun.

"Are you sure?" I shake myself back to reality, back into James' comforting grip.

"Yes," he whispers into my ear. "I am."

For that moment, I believe him and turn around in his arms to kiss the tip of his nose.

"Alright," I smile before putting my arms around his neck loosely and pulling him into a hug, Kenzie's crying starts up again.

"Jeez, baby girl, you can scream can't you?" James sighs after a while of us holding each other, and lets me go. "Let's get you swaddled up."

"Swa—what?" I don't understand the baby talk that James whispers to my tiny little stepsister as he picks her up in one sweeping motion from the crib.

"Do you have a bed we could use?"

"What?" I'm pretty sure my eyes pop out of my sockets when he asks.

"Not for _that_," James rolls his eyes with a cute smirk. "A table? Desk? Something flat but comfortable enough for her." He holds Kenzie in his arms with ease, rocking her calmly and gently—back and forth. Here come those fluid motions again, the ones that he seems to possess with such ease and relaxation. It reminds me of the day I saw him down by the Tip, on his skateboard, also like the way sang with such simplicity on the YouTube video Carlos showed me the one time.

"Kendall?" James shakes me out of my thoughts; once more I was daydreaming apparently.

"Right, I have a bed, follow me," I mutter, leading him out of the nursery and down the hall to my room. Once inside James lays Kenzie on the side of my neatly made bed—the works of Mercedes. I had learned previously that when Mercedes was stressed out or sad, she would do house cleaning and laundry—making beds falling into that category.

"Could you pass me the blanket?" he leans over the baby as she flails her arms wildly and angrily, upset with the world and her depressing life as a baby with a shitty father and a stressed out mom.

"Here," I almost have to shout over the screaming. "James I don't think it's working—" I finally do shout over the baby's noises. He's rolling Kenzie to her side and back to flat on her back, over to the other side as he crosses the blanket over her body and across, up, down, zig-zag and all of these other motions I could never even remember the sequence to.

"James maybe you should give up, I don't think she's going to stop—" and with the snap of James' fingers as he finally leans back from his position of lingering over the baby, she's done crying, her arms squished against the side of her body in her little caterpillar-like blanket wrap. An adorable, cute, tiny baby-burrito lying on my bed, blinking slowly up at us.

"Gonna stop what?" James grins at me. I look down at Kenzie, who's already struggling to keep her eyes open—enjoying the peace and solitude in her bundle.

"Everyone enjoys the comfort of being held tight, human-arms or not," he shrugs when I have nothing to say to him. "I'll go put her in her crib," he gently lifts the almost sleeping baby and disappears from my room. I sit down on my bed and fall back, staring up at the ceiling fan before I exhale heavily, in and out.

"You okay, blondie?" James comes back into the room and sits next to me on the bed.

"No," I admit. "I don't know how we're going to deal around here without you or your mom coming around all the time. _How_ did you do that?"

"It's the swaddle," James flops down next to me on the bed and turns his head so he's looking straight at me. "It's magic, Brooke swears by it."

"Of course…and how does she know this?" I reach a hand up to rub my eyes, before James takes my wrist and pulls my hands down so he can kiss my cheek.

"She's a nurse at the maternity ward at the county hospital," another kiss to the cheek.

I sit up and he follows suit.

"Maybe we should go back down—" I start, but James is pulling me close to connect our lips instantly, cutting off my words. He pulls away before grinning his amazing pearly white smile.

"Sorry. Last time I did that was _too long_ ago," he smiles sheepishly.

"That was this morning," I blush, looking down at my feet dangling over the edge of the bed.

"Too long," James repeats.

"Alrighty pretty boy, stop your smiling," I stand up, motioning for him to get off the bed and start the trek downstairs. He stands up and walks towards the door to the hallway before stopping.

"So now you think I'm pretty?" he teases.

"Slow down buddy," I laugh, the first hearty laugh I've let out in a while.

"What? Can't help it, I'm too pretty apparently," he laughs, his joking around making me feel good in and out, forgetting everything that's been happening today. For some reason, I feel like he hasn't been laughing or having this good of a time this much in a while either—not since before Eric died.

We're still laughing when we're out in the hallway, at the top of the staircase, and when we get downstairs to find Brooke saying something to Mercedes. Mercedes nods before she gets up from her position on the couch and smiles weakly at James' mom.

She makes her way towards the stairs and her eyes finally meet mine. She gives me a sad little hug before pulling away, and realizing that James is actually in her house, standing next to me. She glances up at him, then back to me, then back to James. I don't know what's going through that head of hers, but she blushes before a real smile makes its way on to her face. James and I look at each other, confused. _Maybe she's figured this relationship out or something?_

She pushes past us up the stairs, back to her zombie-like trance.

"You two," I jump at the voice and turn to face James' mom. "Kitchen, now."

"Yes m'am," James and I hurry into the kitchen and take a seat at the island next to each other, giggling at the sudden dictatorship Mrs. Diamond was enforcing.

"So, the baby's all swaddled?" she asks, leaning against the stove across from our spot at the island.

"Indeed," James nods.

"I understand you fed her before we got here, Kendall?" she looks at me.

"Tried to, at least. She had a little bit," I nod.

"Alright," Mrs. Diamond accepts our answers. "Being a mom is tough, boys. I'm sorry to say Mercedes is hitting a rough patch, you're going to have to stick with her, unlike that father of yours," she raises an eyebrow at me.

"Believe me," I hold my hands up passively, feeling strangely comfortable with her. "I know."

"So you two," she picks up her coffee cup—one of the four that James brought for us. "You two are together, aren't you?" she says it more of a statement, rather than a question.

"Mom!" James blushes. Brooke narrows her icy hazel eyes at her son.

"Don't worry, Jamie darling. I'm just asking," she holds her free hand up passively like I did only moments ago. "And your objection is all I needed to know," she smiles.

I blush just as hard as James did, and reach for his hand under the island counter for a reassuring squeeze. James intertwines our fingers and acts casually above the counter, propping his chin in his hand.

Upstairs we heard a sink go on and off, followed by a few footsteps and a light switch going off loudly—Mercedes had finally made her way into bed.

"She needs this rest," Brooke sighs before sipping out of her coffee cup. "And you," she nods at James, "Better get to bed as well."

"Wait—" James starts to object.

"You have work in the morning, don't try to pull one on me," she tells her son before she winks at me. "C'mon, leave your keys. You can pick up your car in the morning."

"So I'm walking home?" James stands up after letting my hand go from his lap.

"James David," Brooke says incredulously, amazed at her son's apparent laziness. "It's only three blocks. You're not going to die."

James rolls his eyes and grumbles, but I catch the smile on his lips as he walks around the island and drops the keys in his mother's hand.

"Thanks mama," he chuckles after she offers a cheek and he leans down to kiss it. I follow him out to the front porch, where he turns around with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"So your mom," I start when his eyes meet mine, shining in the porch light. "She doesn't know about your night adventures?"

"Nah, she says nothing good comes after midnight," he pulls his hands out of his pockets to rest his arms on my shoulders as I wrap my arms around his waist.

"She's a great lady, but I don't agree with her. An angel, really."

"I know, she's the best," he leans down and rests his forehead against me. "You and her, the two greatest people in my life right now."

"Aww," I blush. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not," he grins, keeping his eyes—only centimeters away, locked on mine. "You really are cute, blondie."

I had to bite my tongue in order to stop my embarrassing rambling.

"You're cuter," I end up saying pathetically. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," he leans forward and connects our lips. This kiss lasts a little bit longer than the others, this time he somehow managed to coax me into opening my mouth and sliding his tongue in—that all results in me letting out an embarrassing moan or two. However, I could have stayed there all night, good or no good, until he pulled away and glanced over my shoulder straight through the entryway and into the kitchen, where Mrs. Diamond was looking down at her phone. "I should go," he sighs.

"I'll see you," I say shyly once he pulls away.

Once he's down the steps and on the sidewalk he stops to turn and winks at me.

"Hey Kendall? Wanna go out with me? Like, tomorrow night? We could go out to dinner, or play mini-golf, or just sit on the beach and kiss…" he plays with his hands and looks at his feet—_is the James Diamond I'd grown to know__** nervous**__? _

I lean against the railing on the porch, feeling like a _fucking princess_ on top of the world looking down at _her prince, _the one who saves her from the dragon guarding the castle and marries her.

"Yeah, Jamie, I'd like that."

* * *

"Hey Kendall—" Carlos bursts into the office with two mysterious items in his hand, smiling at me.

"What's up?" I was in a particularly good mood today; I had a date with James to look forward to. That, and my brother was coming down to visit with his new girlfriend—the one he was apparently 'in love with'.

"Dak came by and stopped by with this for you," he lifted up the two little papers in his hand and grinned. "Why are you in such a good mood?"

"Is it that obvious?" I blush, covering my face.

"Uh, yeah, Logan said you were whistling when you walked through the store."

"Well, my brother's coming today with his girlfriend, which is going to be enough of a Comedy Central Show in itself to keep me laughing for the rest of the week."

"Sounds fun, are you two close?"

Kevin and I, we were a strange couple of siblings. We weren't exactly close, if anything we were just bonded by the title of "Kevin and Kendall Knight." But if there was one thing that Kevin and I were, we were happy and had lots of fun when we were together—that's why his girlfriend Laura was in for a real treat. She definitely didn't know what the Knight boys were like when they were reunited.

"I mean, I guess," I shrug. "He's away for the most part, he travels a lot."

"I see, well, I hope you three have fun."

"We will," I smile at Carlos. "Thanks."

"So how did everything go after I left yesterday?" I ask, clearing the calculator and writing the tax total down on the correct paper before turning fully to Carlos.

"Was extremely busy," he shrugs. "How was Mercedes?"

"No bueno," I frown, leaning back in my chair. "I had to call for help."

"Who'd you call?" Carlos grins, I have a gut feeling he knows exactly who, but I push that feeling away as I brace myself to lie.

"A friend," I shrug, hoping I could pull off a half-lie.

"I see," Carlos keeps his sly grin on his face. "Well. You should probably get going as soon as you're done there, more time for your brother and…other things," he raises an eyebrow before turning around.

"Carlos?" I ask after him, confused by what he meant with 'other things', but I ignore it.

"Hm?" he still has that smug little smile on his face. I nod towards where he's holding the little papers in his hand. "Oh, right." He hands them over to me; face down before he leaves the office.

_I wonder what Dak could have brought for me—_

"Oh," my mouth is stuck in the 'O' position for the next five minutes as I look down at the two pictures that were copied for me from Dak's infamous camera, and I immediately know that Carlos knew everything while he was playing dumb for me, while I was doing the exact same.

One of the pictures is of James and I holding each other and smiling at the camera—_completely_ covered in food in a small kitchen, popsicles everywhere.

Us kissing, the other.

* * *

"So I'm sitting in the middle of a coffee shop in London, trying to figure out what I want to do with my life and travels next, and there's this girl I notice staring at me from across the shop," Kevin gushes to an interested Mercedes. We're all sitting at the island kitchen, stuffed with food and desserts that Mercedes had whipped up in her spare time. Thanks to Mrs. Diamond, we knew exactly how to care for Kenzie now, how to stop the crying and screaming if we needed to.

"My goodness, Kevin, I'm so happy for you two!" She chirps, offering the coffee pot to Laura, the girlfriend. "So Laura, you're a…"

"Scientist," Laura answers. I had to admit, she was a boring girl. But Kevin was clearly in love, and she was not completely disgusted by him, so it worked. "I study the bio-chemistry behind certain chemicals and a part-time botanist."

"Oh, so you're good with plants?" Mercedes goes wide-eyed.

"Good is an understatement, Mer," Kevin laughs loudly with her, like he'd known Mercedes all of his life. I study Laura closely, watching her blank and silent figure and how she doesn't move at all.

"Well I have this plant that you could take a look at, if you don't mind. It just keeps dying on us here," she stands up and grabs Laura's wrist before she can object, and they're upstairs somewhere looking for a dead plant. Kevin and I sit in the kitchen silently for a moment.

"You seem happy here, Kenny," Kevin finally speaks up, finger circling the rim of his coffee mug.

"I think I am," I smile at him. "I've met some really great people."

"So I hear," Kevin nods. "It's a shame daddy-o's not here," Kevin leans back in his chair at the island, relaxing. I stand up to throw my empty coffee cup in the sink and wash all of the dessert plates.

"Why's that?"

"Well…" Kevin trails off. Even though I have my back to him and can't see his facial expression, I can tell he's holding something back. "We were going to tell everyone together, but…Laura and I are getting married."

"What?"

I drop one of the plates in my hand in the sink and it lands with a crash on top of all the other plates and glasses.

"Married?" I hear Mercedes shriek as she and Laura make their way back into the kitchen. "Oh my gosh!" I turn to see her jumping up and down with an un-amused Laura.

"Are you sure you're not jumping into this too fast?" I ask, not caring if anyone got hurt by this question. I could tell by Laura's attitude that she was going to change Kevin, but not in the good way that James was changing me—and we were barely in our relationship.

"I tell Kevin we can't go too fast," Laura says dully, and Mercedes gives her a confused look, before glancing over at me with the same expression. "But he's just such a good boy sometimes it's hard not to be in love with each other, so I agreed."

"Well we're happy for you, right Kenny?" Mercedes walks over and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close. I didn't mind the closeness this was forcing upon us, and when she looked up at me with desperate eyes I could tell that she was scared for Kevin, scared for all of us Knights.

"Yeah, Mercedes. Right."

* * *

"So you don't like her," James laughs when I explain the awkward dinner I had with Kevin and the rest of my faux-family.

"I never said_ that_," I take a moment to think about Laura, from her dull appearance to the matching dull personality.

"You didn't have to," James pulled a bouncy ball off of the shelf in the aisle, bouncing it up and down a couple of times as if he were testing its bounciness. We're at Wal-Mart, at eleven-thirty at night, going through the aisles for random shit.

"She's just… I just wanted to smack her and see if she'd do anything!" I vent, still frustrated over the secret engagement. "She'd probably just say thank you! No, scratch that. She'd do nothing at all!" I threw my hands up out of frustration.

"See, you don't like her," James snorts, before he pulls a skateboard off of a shelf and putting it down on the floor of the aisle. "But maybe your brother really _has _changed." I hear my mother's voice echoing through my own, and I shudder. "Maybe it's for the best."

He starts riding the skateboard up and down the aisle, coming back and circling around me with minimal efforts.

"You know," I start, my head turning to follow his fluid-motions around me. "Everyone thinks you absolutely _never ever_ ride those things any more."

"I don't," James says matter-of-factly.

"Then how come I'm watching you do it right now in front of me, kiddo?" I cross my arms, kind of hoping I have him stumped.

"Huh," he doesn't stop his movements on the board, even shifts his weight on the board so that the nose is up in the air and all of his weight is on the tail-end of the board. He sets both feet back down before he's riding simply again, maneuvering through the aisle. "I don't know. What do you think of it, love?"

He stops in front of me for a second to push me against the shelves while he remains on top of the board, both arms stretched so he's using the shelves I'm pressing my back against for his own support. I can feel his breath hitting my mouth. "Seriously, tell me what you...mmph." I interrupt by closing the gap in between us, kissing him hard and relentlessly, this time he's the moaning mess. When I finally push him off for air, he uses the force I send to start his riding again.

If James never skated in front of people anymore, maybe he _was_ slowly changing. He is, _after all_, skating in front of me. He continues to slide around, singing while he did so. He looks so beautiful, doing what he does best. Skating, singing, _everything_ at once.

Maybe this summer he would change too, maybe he'd start skating again, in front of _other_ people. Although I have to admit, having this kind of James all to myself was wonderful.

_People never change, Kendall._

My mother's voice rings through my head as my eyes follow James on the skateboard. As James turns at the end of the aisle and does a small jump over a Swiffer mop that had been knocked over in the middle of the aisle, I go through a breakthrough.

My mom was wrong all this time, she _had_ to be. Change was a reoccurring theme this summer. It all suddenly becomes so clear.

James and I were two whole different people before this summer began, before we knew each other, before we started falling in love. Before we had been holding on to so much, so many memories, so much baggage. There were so many sleepless nights in our past, so many events that lead up to this night. Somehow though, we kept _fighting_. We kept _pushing_ on, we kept _hoping_ for something—for someone. Someone else to help, to help us both change, to help us let go of everything.

And that, was the moment I realized it. My summer _changes _yet again.

_If people never change, never fall in love, then what the fuck is happening to me?_

* * *

**So I feel like that was a shitty ending, a little RUSHED… Haha.. Get it… No?**

**Okay.**

**Please review :) Tell me whatcha think.**

**Xx**

**Sarah**

**PS: LISJpoiJPEOIRPWOEIFJPWEOIFJ I almost touched Kendall last night guys. AWOEIRPAOWFPOIJ. K BYE. :)**


	10. Fireworks

**It's been a week and I haven't updated… sigh. ****I'm sorry guys… And I don't really like this chapter; I think I could've done a lot better so I tried adding a lot of fluff. Please don't quit on me if you hate this one, I've just had a blah week—you know, those weeks where writers just don't know what to do. I trust some of you know what I'm saying… anyways :) Next update will be better! Loads better!**

**Oh, also, please ignore spelling mistakes, grammar errors... I really rushed this just so I would have something to post :/**

**But as usual thank you to all who reviewed, including: KEALY KAMES, LoveSparkle, Love and Heartz, XxxAnimaniacxxX, icanloveyoumorethanthis, Moonbeam-987, DeniseDEMD and Kimmie. :)**

**Chapter 10:**

* * *

"Kendall, there's a dude here for you!"

"Oh relax Kevin, it's probably James," Mercedes shouts from the nursery. I sit up from my laying-down position on my bed, hoping the both of my 'family' members shut up before I'm embarrassed by one of them.

Mercedes had already figured out that James and I are a little bit more than friends, but had promised to keep it a secret from my brother. Kevin understood my sexual orientation—but is clearly not ready for me to be in a relationship, judging by the way he continues shouting up the stairs for me.

"Kendall has a friend?" Kevin shouts up the stairs again. My face reddens as I skip down the stairs two steps at a time; only to find my idiot brother talking to the beautiful boy I'm head over heels for at the front door. James looks comfortable, for whatever reason, but I still feel extreme shame and embarrassment watching the scene and conversation in front of me unfold.

"Kevin, I think Laura was looking for you," I lie while gritting my teeth, knowing Laura has been out for almost an hour. I give James a sympathetic look, apologizing silently.

"Nice try little bro, the pretty lady of mine is observing the aquarium life down by the jetty, wants to study the pH levels of the seaweed or something," Kevin smirks before reaching over and ruffling my hair obnoxiously.

"Kevin," I roll my eyes. "This is James. James, this is Kevin, my brother." James nods with a sweet smile on his face, obviously looking to impress my brother for the apparent trust issues he has. James extends his right hand, before my brother looks at it for a moment._ Yup, trust issues._

"Nice to meet ya buddy," Kevin finally reaches over to James' extended hand and shakes it. "Now tell me James, if you could have one condiment dispensed from your belly button what would it—"

"And we're leaving," I walk past Kevin and open the front door with James' hand in my grip.

"Melted white macadamia nut chocolate," James calls over his shoulder from behind me, laughing.

"Good choice!" Kevin shouts before the door is closed and James and I are on the sidewalk, walking towards his car.

"Well he's nice," James chuckles as I huff out of embarrassment and slide into the passenger seat of his car.

"He's_ weird_, way too friendly, my mom used to say," I disagree.

"Hey, I've heard and seen worse, Jett's brought home some dumbasses in his time as a man-whore," he shrugs as he pulls away from the curb and we're cruising down the street. At a stoplight he fidgets with the radio dial, and changes the air conditioner temperature unnecessarily. I get his attention by landing my hand on top of his and pulling it away from the buttons. When he turns to me, I suprising him by leaning in for a quick kiss and pulling away.

"Hi," he chuckles before the light turns green and he continues straight down on the road.

We sit in a complete and comfortable silence—apparently comfortable enough that I let myself quietly sing along to the music on the radio subconsciously.

"Do you sing?" he asks me as he keeps his eyes forward.

"Me?" I shudder, stopping my vocal chords from letting any noises leave my throat any further. Ever since before my parents divorced, I never really let myself sing, ever. "No, not really," I lie.

"Are you sure about that?"

The truth was, I used to love to sing. I hadn't really thought about it for years now, it was a sore subject and commonly avoided when anyone asked me. My mother encouraged it for choir class reasons, and my father liked it because it was something I seemed to have enjoyed as a kid. It all stopped when one night I was singing to myself, trying to tune out the shouting, screaming, and breaking glasses from down the hallway. Apparently I was being loud, loud enough so that my mother found it necessary to run into my room and say,

"_**Shut up with your singing nonsense, it won't get you anywhere in life!"**_

"What's the objective we're tackling tonight?" I change the subject quickly, shaking the bad memories away from my brain.

James furrows his eyebrows closely together, noticing the quick subject change, but soon decides to let it go before he pulls his car into an empty parking lot. There's a dimly lit building at the end of the lot, and he drives all the way down to the curb in front of the door.

"Uh," I crane my neck around to look at the sketchy building, but can't really figure out much about it.

"I'm just picking some stuff up from a friend, then you'll hear my plan for our date," he winks as he opens the door on his side and runs into the building. I watch the door he disappears in, and nervously bite my nails. It had been at least five minutes by the time James decides to come back out, with a large box in his arms.

"Are we going to spend our date in a box?" I tease when he pushes the box in the backseat and jumps back into the driver's side.

"Nope," James snorts. "Good one, Kenny."

"You seemed to think so," I laugh.

"Well, since we didn't really go on our date last night...tonight, I thought it'd be good for you to knock off a picnic on the beach on the list," my heart jumps at his words—a picnic on the beach? I was never one for cheesy romance, but a fucking _picnic_ on a fucking _beach_? _Fuck, that's cute. _"Followed by some fireworks."

_Wait._

_What?_

"Fireworks?"

* * *

By the time we're on the beach it's extremely dark and no one is on the boardwalk—something I'd grown accustomed to while hanging out with James.

"Is this legal?"

"Relax, they're not like, the heavy stuff," James chuckles. "Just a little more intense than those dumbass sparkler thingies."

"Still," I sigh, rolling out the blanket James had. Although getting arrested was definitely not something on my 'list', I must admit this was intriguing.

"Look, we really don't have to do this if you don't want to," James notices my worried expression.

"No, it's fine. Thank you," I say sincerely.

"For what?" he looks confused before he sets a backpack I hadn't noticed him wearing before on the picnic blanket, before pulling a thermos and a couple of containers out of it. He bends over to lay the containers out around the blanket, waiting for me to answer.

"Just, thanks," I smile, even though he probably can't see the smile because of the darkness.

"Kenny, baby, you have to tell me why you're thanking me," he laughs, straightening up so he can take a step closer and press his lips against mine. When he pulls away I take a deep breath.

"Thanks for changing me, or trying to at least," it takes me a moment to gather why I'm so grateful—scratch _that_, his beauty and lips _alone_ made me thankful to be alive on nights like tonight.

"Oh," he reaches up behind him and rubs the back of his neck. If it weren't so dark, there would probably be a blush creeping up on his face. "You're welcome." He shuffles around in the sand, looking down at the ground. "You too, you know."

"Huh?" I watch as he continues to kick sand around, pushing the toes of his sneakers underneath the top layer of loose, dry sand.

"Thank _you_, Kendall," he finally brings himself to meet my gaze. "You've been changing me a lot too."

_Why doesn't someone just slap us both and put us in a cheesy romance movie together?_

"I mean, it must be hard being with some freak with a sad history, who can't get over anything," he drops his eyes back down to my vans, covered in sand now because of his nervous kicking.

"Hey," I take a step closer, and lift his chin up with a finger, a bold thing to do. "Don't you think if I didn't l-lo—" I swallow heavily, almost choking on the word 'love'. "If I didn't want to be with you, I would've backed out a long time ago?"

His heavy eyes lighten up when he hears this, smirking a little. At first I'm confused as to why he's smirking, but then I realize he must have caught the 'love' slip up.

"You know," he sits down on the picnic blanket that we've set up and pats the open spot next to him. "I'm adding another thing to your list."

"What's that?" I take the open container of food he offers to me, the smell inhabiting my lungs—purely delicious.

"You're going to sing for me," he laughs as my face goes from calm and relaxed to panicked and confused.

"I can't sing, you wouldn't want to hear me," I lie for the second time in the night.

"It's okay to sing, Kenny," James nudges me with his elbow as he pushes a mouthful of the pasta he brought into his mouth.

"No it's not," I sigh, thinking back to my mother's outburst so many years ago.

"So you can sing," James teases.

"Can we drop it? So I can sing. I just choose not to, like you and your skating. Okay?" I say a bit harshly, quickly regretting the way the words came out. I sigh. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," James grins. "No need to apologize."

"But can I just ask, who made this pasta?" I ask as soon as my taste buds explode in absolute ecstasy with a fork full of pasta.

"My mom," James chuckles, reaching over to wipe a bit of sauce off of my chin with his thumb. "She sends her best to you, Mercedes and the baby."

"Mm, tell her this is the best pasta ever," I moan, finishing the last of it off before putting the empty container back into his backpack on top the blanket. As we finish up, he pulls another container out. I can't see what it is, but I know it'll be delicious either way.

"Strawberries?" he pulls one out and offers it to me. I open my mouth as he pops it in. The strawberries are indeed delicious, they remind me of the taste of James' strawberry chapstick rubbing against my lips. I shudder just at the thought, before I can't resist the urge to kiss him again anymore. I lean over to James from my pretzel position on the blanket and press my lips against his—my actions a little too desperate for my liking. I catch him off guard, but I soon feel an arm around my waist that pulls me over so I'm lying on top of him on the blanket.

"Mm," he hums as I finally pull away, needing air.

"I'm ready," I announce, resting my head in the crook of his neck.

"For what?" James rubs my back soothingly, and I almost forget we're on a beach—it feels so natural to be here.

"For the fireworks of course," I grin, slowly sitting up. "As long as they're as good as the fireworks I just saw while I was kissing you," I wink. I know he caught that, despite the darkness surrounding us.

"Hm, I can't guarantee that baby," he chuckles. "That was pretty fucking awesome."

I only half joke when I say,

"Let's just get this over with and _not_ get arrested."

* * *

"Oh fuck!"

Twenty minutes later I find myself laughing my ass off after James accidentally sends a firework straight into the water, causing an underwater blowout.

"Well," I stop to breathe; my stomach hurts too much from laughing. "That was definitely amazing."

"Oh shut up," James laughs, blushing. "You almost set the lifeguard chair on fire," he points to the chair we had spent one night on—also where I had indeed almost shot a firework straight into.

"Touché," I laugh, falling over from laughter again and on to the blanket. I watch as James sets another one off, launching it into the sky. It only goes twenty or thirty feet up, but it looks like a billion little stars are flying down to us, a beautiful sight. When my eyes land on James again, he's watching me—looking hopeful.

I help him set up a couple more, all lined in a row before we light them and they go, all exploding roughly in the sky moments later. I throw my arm around James' waist, looking up at the different colors and shapes in the sky as he puts his arm over my shoulder. He leans down and kisses the top of my head, humming happily as we watch the remnants of some of them falling down to the beach.

Despite the sand in my shoes and previous fears of being arrested, just seeing the colors and light reflecting off of James' face right now has me feeling like the happiest person alive—everything is the way it's supposed to be.

"How's our first date working out for you?"

I look up into his deep hazel eyes, smiling bigger than I think I have in a while—feeling better and more alive than I have in years. For a split second I panic, though. I all of a sudden realize that the only reason I'm here is because of my idiot brother—the one who sent me the frame and inspired me to do something with my life.

_Is it possible that the same brother I was complaining to James about deserves a thank you from me? Is it possible he's the soul reason why I'm here? Having the time of my life?_

"James," I swallow heavily. "It's fucking perfect. Everything is perfect."

"Good," he smiles before leaning down and we connect our lips, a shock searing through my body all the way down from my head to my toes.

"I really, _really_ will never get over what it feels like to kiss you, Kendall Knight," James sighs happily when he pulls away.

"Mm," I hum as we watch the last firework in the sky explode with a bang, before it crumbles back down to the sand around us.

"Well, we're all out of fireworks," James nudges the empty box at our feet with his foot. "Meaning you're successfully done with yet _another_ task on your quest."

I pout before an idea pops into my head. "I think I have another task in mind." He looks at me, confused before I unwrap my arm from his waist and sit down on the picnic blanket, patting the open spot next to me. James smiles when he realizes what I'm doing as we both lay down next to each other. I take this moment to roll over so that I'm somewhat on top of him, connecting our lips for the thousandth time in an hour. We stay like that for a couple of minutes, occasionally moaning lovingly at the feeling of each other's touch and embrace, the feeling of each others' lips softly rubbing together in a perfect rhythm.

At one point James moans and opens his mouth for me, from there the innocent kissing turns into heavy open-mouthed and tongued kissing. Although I feel like I'm on cloud nine for a good couple minutes, I realize that we're still on the beach—a public place.

"Okay," I pull away to breathe before it all gets out of hand, who knows what might have happened if my hormones were set free any further. I cuddle up into James' side. "That's crossed off my list now as well."

James lets a strangled giggle out, panting for air before he leans down and kisses the top of my head again.

"Now _that_ was something."

"James?" I ask after a few minutes, finally regaining my breath while feeling the guilt of dissing my _amazing_ brother wash over me again.

"What's up?" he asks. My eyes land on a star directly above us in the night sky.

"I take back what I said about Kevin earlier."

"Why's that?" James' heart is beating steadily next to me on the blanket; it's almost loud enough to hear over the ocean waves crashing.

_Everybody ready? Here comes maybe one of the cheesiest things I'll ever say._

"He's the reason I came here, the amazing reason I met you."

There was silence as I smiled when James' heartbeat grew louder and faster—a telltale sign he feels the same way about me that I do about him. We're not quite ready to say love, yet—even though we've already admitted to each other that we're both falling in love faster than a rollercoaster at six flags, but the feeling is definitely there as his heart doesn't slow down.

"I think we should go give your brother a massive hug, then," he chuckles.

Yeah, as far as falling in love goes, we're way too far down _that_ road to ever come back.

* * *

"_So word on the street is that you've, **changed**?_" I can practically hear my mother scowling on the end of the phone line.

"Yes _mom_, I have," I grin, hoping she doesn't visualize my facial expressions like I do hers. I wave to Mercedes as I pass through the kitchen for a cup of coffee. She smiles at me before looking back down to her magazine in front of her on the island counter.

"_And you also have a boyfriend_," the scowl grows bigger in the image I have of her in my head.

"Well," James and I never really established our relationship up to this point, so I wasn't lying when I said, "No." I lower my voice as I slip outside of the kitchen, through the front door and on to the front porch.

"_Sorry, a boy you've been spending your nights with. What do you call **that**, Kendall?_" she scolds me, causing me to stay silent.

_Love_?

She takes the period of silence I offer up to say, _"I'm not paying for Elon this fall if you're going to spend your nights whoring around like you have been."_

_Ouch._

"I just said we're not boyfriends, didn't I? What makes you think I'm acting like a massive slut?"

So maybe James and I did make out a lot, and spent the nights here together—but we never did anything more than that. And as for the boyfriend part? It just wasn't defined yet. Could anyone understand that?

_"You're spending your nights with the boy!"_

I would have to remember to slap Kevin for telling her about James and I the next time I see him. Kevin and Laura made their way home while I was sleeping this morning, no doubt unloading every bit of information about Mercedes, the baby and me to my mother as soon as they got there.

"You don't even know James—" I protest, how could she be so cold towards someone so sweet and amazing? She doesn't even know him!

_"So his name is James? I knew a James when I was your age. He was huge trouble, always having his way with any girl he wanted."_

"James isn't like that!" I shout into the phone. My mother's invalid argument was pissing me off.

"_Kendall_," my mother says coldly, trying to tell me to back down. _"Let's just change the topic. I got a package from Elon this morning, would you like me to open it?"_

"Yes please," I grumble, bitter over her attitude.

_"Meal plan, course info, roommate suggestions procedures, roommate personality quiz—what a joke,"_ she snorts. _"Choose your personality type, A, outgoing, or B, quiet."_

I listen as she ridicules the standard procedure of roommate matching and my mind flashes to Carlos—I wonder if he got the package as well.

"_Ah, I'm working on signing_ _you up for the Fairmount program_," she says, sounding pleased with herself.

"What's that?" I ask, a little worried she was forcing me into something I probably wouldn't like.

"_It's a housing opportunity for the best of the students at Elon_," she says dreamily as if she's speaking of George Clooney—her Hollywood crush since before I was born. "_There you're offered an environment for those who wish to eliminate the complications of standard dorm-life, with single rooms and large common rooms for study space_," she reads off of the paper to me through the phone. I cringe as I take a sip of the coffee I had balancing on the porch railing.

"Why would you sign me up for that? Don't you think I would want to choose my living situation on my own?" I finally ask when she takes a moment to collect herself—obviously enjoying the sound of the Fairmount program way too much.

"_Because that means no parties, no drinking, no frat boys, no nonsense,_" she answers. Carlos would probably be engaged in all of those activities, he'd have the time of his life while I was stuck with some nerds all cooped up in a house.

"You know what? Why don't you send all of that over, I can handle it myself," I put my foot down on the subject.

"_Alright_," she sighs. "_It's your future you're fucking up, kid,_" she clearly doesn't approve—but this time I could care less.

"It's my future, mom. Can't you just trust me on this one?" I really want my mom to see my side of things—but unless she herself changed, I know that probably isn't likely.

"_I don't know_," she sighs. "_You really have changed._"

There's an uncomfortable silence on the phone as I suddenly notice Carlos walking up the driveway, with a large UPS envelope in his hands.

"_Just be careful, honey,_" my mom breathes out. "_I trust you._"

"Thanks mom," I smile, thanking god that she was going to take a step back from my life. "I love you."

"_Love you too, Kendall,_" she ends the call, there's a dead line ringing as Carlos steps up on to the front porch.

"Hi," I welcome him to sit down on one of the rocking chairs on the front porch.

"It's okay," Carlos shakes his head, grinning. "Did you get this?" he lifts up the envelope in his hand.

"I just got out of an argument with my mom over it," I roll my eyes, reaching a hand up to rub the back of my neck. "But yes."

"I just opened it at the store and wanted to come over to ask you about it…You're not going to do the Fairmount program are you?" he looks a little worried.

"No, I don't think so," I shake my head out of disgust. "Sounds like a boring time."

Carlos' face brightens up, and looks hopeful.

"So, look," he starts, before looking down at the envelope in his hands. "I know we really didn't have a great start or anything. I apologize for that again, by the way," he looks up, sincerely.

"Carlos, seriously. You're one of my closest friends here," I shake my head.

"Besides James," he wiggles his eyebrows around. "I noticed there were some fireworks on the beach last night…" he grins.

"Shut up," I blush, looking down at the coffee mug in my hand.

"Anyways," he waves his hands, going back to whatever it was that was on his mind when he first came over here. "I was just wondering, if maybe you'd want to…feel free to say no, I'd understand…"

"Carlos," I cut him off. "Get to the point," I set my coffee mug down on the railing again, urging him to go on.

"Well I was hoping maybe you'd want to suggest each other as roommates?" he holds up the envelope, looking a little worried again. "I mean feel free to say no if you—"

"Yes!" I interrupt his rambling, before taking a step forward and hugging him. "Of course." Rooming with Carlos had crossed my mind a couple of times before, but I never really let it sink in until now.

"Yes," I repeat, calming down after he returns the hug.

"Great," he grins when we separate. "So are you coming down to the store soon? Camille's having a meltdown with some shipping papers."

"I'll be there soon," I roll my eyes at Camille's lack of intelligence.

"Alright," Carlos grins, turning to walk back down the porch steps.

"Later," I pick up my coffee mug and watch him walk down the driveway.

"See ya, roomie!" he waves over his shoulder.

I can't help but let my face hurt with a huge smile that I didn't even know was there.

"See mom?" I mutter to myself as I walk back into the house. "You can trust me."

* * *

**Please don't hate me for awful chapters… please please please.**

**Please review though, they really are what I look forward to when I update. :)**

**Sorry this chapter took me forever.**

**xx**

**Sarah**


	11. Newspapers

**Wow…. So I got a lot of wonderful positive feedback… you guys are literally the bestest in the whole world. Flooded with reviews! Me! Of all people! I also realize I didn't get around to PMing half of you thanks yous for the reviews you gave me, just know I had a crazy week and I will definitely get back on track next update! **

**Thank you so much to: Kamesplus61, Kimmie, XxxAnimaniacxxX, LoveSparkle, DramaJen89, I'mJustAVirusInsideYourHead, Love and Heartz, KEALY KAMES, icanloveyoumorethanthis, DeniseDEMD, jamesmaslowlover, annabellex2.**

**And it's already been a week and one day since I last updated…. sorry! :( I'm trying to do every Sunday updates…looks like this one's a tad bit late.**

**Chapter 11:**

* * *

Arguments were apparently contagious, as was everything in the Knight-Griffin household. After my short phone argument with my mother, only hours later did my father decide to return home and start more arguments.

I'm in a good mood almost indefinitely—I think, no matter how many arguments come up. Carlos and I rooming together is a lot more exciting than I had expected, and I am going to get to see James in less than a couple of hours.

"I get that you want to go out and stuff baby," I hear my dad pathetically attempt at stopping Mercedes from going out with her friends tonight. I step outside of my room to listen to the conversation in the master bedroom right down the hall.

"I really do! I want you to have nights out for yourself—but it's been a while since you've left me with the newborn," my dad begs.

"She's not a newborn, we're past that Jonathan. She's your daughter," I can visualize the face that Mercedes gives him through the closed door I'm staring at. If I could see her, her eyebrows would be closely knitted together, nose scrunched slightly as if she had recently smelled rotten milk. I lean against the threshold, silently rooting for Mercedes to win the argument.

"But I just got back! I can't pay attention, I need to unpack and—"

"Jonathan Brandon Knight. You are going to do all of that later, and you are going to spend time with your daughter," the door opens and Mercedes walks out. She stops in front of a mirror hanging on the wall as I stay put, watching her put a pair of earrings in.

"Wow," I chuckle. "He's lame."

"Yes well, we're stuck with him, aren't we?" she rolls her eyes in the mirror. I still can't get over what a simple shower and a better choice in clothing could do for Mercedes—she looks beautiful in a pair of dark skinny jeans and a black top that draped loosely over her shoulders. Her blonde hair was slicked back perfectly into a ponytail, and her makeup almost made it look like being a girl is a generally easy thing; an attractive girl at that.

"You look really nice, Mer," her eyes meet mine in the reflection of the mirror.

"Thanks hun," she smiles before fidgeting around with the silver necklace around her neck. "Shoot, I need a different necklace," she sighs. She shuffles down the hallway back into the master bedroom where my dad remains sitting on the bed, still stumped as to why my stepmother was leaving him so easily. But that's what he did to us last week, wasn't it? He simply left without a lot of words—left us to die with a baby who didn't stop crying until Mrs. Diamond came around.

I stay planted in the threshold of the doorway to my room, listening to the bickering continue.

"Can't Kendall watch Kenzie?" Mercedes walks out of the bedroom with a new necklace on at a quick pace with my father trailing behind.

"No, he can't," Mercedes winks at me. "He's got a life too, Jonathan."

I follow the two of them down the stairs—listening to the argument continue.

"I'll be less than three hours, think you can handle that?" Mercedes doesn't stop walking until she's at the front door. "Actually, darling, don't answer that," she stops and opens the door. "I'm leaving before I have another breakdown."

With that, she closes the door behind her and is gone from our sight.

My dad turns to me, shoving his hands in his jean pockets during the awkward silence that follows Mercedes' departure.

"Now what?" he asks me for advice.

"You're on your own," I basically growl, not caring one bit. To tell the truth, I wasn't exactly happy with my dad—still. "I'm going down to the shop."

"But it's almost seven," clearly he has yet to figure out what my life is really like—the staying up all night and sleeping late.

"Yeah," I pick up my hoodie off of the coat rack next to the door. "I know."

* * *

When I get to the shop I finally feel a little bit guilty for stranding my dad at the house—but I only feel guilty for little Kenzie being alone with him.

"Hey roomie," Carlos grins from his spot dressing up a mannequin in the window as soon as I walk in the store.

"Sup buddy?" I ask a little bit less cheerfully than I anticipate.

"What's wrong?" Carlos frowns as he struggles to pull a pair of board shorts over the plastic legs.

"Eh, Mercedes went out to dinner with some friends and my dad basically attempted to throw the baby at me," I shrug.

"Oh, wow," Carlos chuckles. "Your dad is an idiot."

"No need to remind me," I tug on a pair of jeans hanging on a clothing rack, feeling the soft denim run in between my fingers. "But I'm hanging out with James later, so I should be fine," I wink at him.

"Ahh how _is_ your boyfriend? Haven't seen him in a while," Carlos smiles at me, finishing off the outfit on the mannequin with a pair of sunglasses to rest on top of the fake human's head.

"Not boyfriend," I look down at the jeans I'm playing with, blushing hard. "_Yet_."

"Ahh, that's the key word right there. _Yet_. That date you went on with the fireworks was pretty boyfriend-ish." Carlos hops down from the platform in the window to walk past me towards the register. I follow him there, hoping to escape to the office so I can finish up whatever work is waiting for me.

"No, I'm sure he used to do that all the time," I assume, trying to deny how incredibly perfect and amazing it was last night on the beach in my head. I stop when I see Carlos in front of me freeze, before slowly turning to face me.

"That's the thing, Kendall," he sighs. "He's never done that alone with someone before." I don't know why I suddenly felt a rush of happiness and passion running through my veins when Carlos says this, but it happens.

"Really?" I try to hide my excitement, probably failing but too interested to care.

"Yes, really," Carlos nods with a chuckle. "All I'm saying is, what you two have," he points at me. "It's real." At this I swallow, chuckling heavily.

"I really like him," I stopped myself from saying love—I was a little worried to admit it just yet.

"I know," he pats my shoulder before turning back to the register counter and going through a to-do list someone had wrote out. "What are you two going to do tonight?"

"Don't know, got a lot left for my quest—"

"I'm sorry," Carlos turned to me. "Did you just say quest?"

That's when I realize how ridiculous a quest really does sound, when someone else says it out loud. However, I didn't seem to mind the weird look Carlos was currently giving me.

"Yeah, I guess. It's stupid but seeing as I'm the only teenager in this town that hasn't done any normal teenager things…yeah."

"Fair enough," Carlos shrugs. "A quest is a quest, and seeing as you've probably got a lot to do on it," he pauses, giving an apologetic look for basically telling me that I've had no life until now. "You should get to work so you can leave early and see your _boyfriend_," he coos, poking fun at the word 'boyfriend'.

"Not exactly my boyfriend," I roll my eyes.

"Yet," he points at me, grinning again. I nod in response.

"Yet."

* * *

"That'll be seventy-five cents, please," Dak says with a tired smile from his position at the register counter at the local gas station. I hand him a dollar for my coffee, returning the smile.

"So what hours do you work here?" I ask, making friendly conversation to distract him from his boring job.

"I do Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays from seven to midnight," Dak opens the register to pull out a quarter and hands it to me. "Need any sugar for that?"

"Thanks man," I nod, taking a couple of packets of sugar from the little container one register over. "Well, you've only got half an hour left." He glances up to the clock hanging above the automatic sliding doors—where a bunch of motor-bikers with big hefty stomachs and long beards came in for their daily fix of snacks and coffee.

"You're right," he yawns. "Jett hates my job cause there's no one to cook for him at home."

"Isn't he usually out stalking girls?" I smirk, pouring two of the packets into the dark and bitter liquid.

"Yeah," he sighs. "He usually is. But he always likes a nice warm meal waiting for him when he brings himself and some random bitch home." He doesn't look too happy when he explains his housemate's habits.

"What a wuss," I chuckle. "I like a man who can cook for himself, less maintenance."

"Same here," Dak raises a hand up for a high-five. "You know," he purrs. "James can cook."

"Can he?" I blush.

"Yeah," Dak leans against the wall underneath a sign warning the cigarette and tobacco buyers that they must have their IDs out. "I'm sure someone's told ya, it wasn't me and Jett who used to do the hot dog parties. Always Eric and James."

I turn my attention to the headlights coming in through the sliding doors to see a familiar car, with James smiling at me from the drivers seat.

"Speak of the devil," Dak and I say simultaneously with a loud and heavy laugh. I raise a hand up to wave goodbye, and turn towards the door with my coffee cup in hand.

"Oh wait! Kendall!" Dak catches my attention. I turn to him to see a wide grin on his face just as the bikers with the heavy facial hair were about to put their chips and coffees down on the counter. "Did Carlos uh…did Carlos give those pictures to you?"

I smile when I think of the picture frame Kevin gave me sitting on the bedside table back at the house, holding the same picture Dak is talking about.

"Yeah, he did, thank you," I laugh, getting a laugh from Dak in return.

"Anytime buddy," he winks. "Is this all, sir?" he asks one of the bikers when I finally bring myself to walk out of the gas station store, shaking my head.

"What are you two laughing about?" James flashes a warm smile when I get in the car. I set my coffee cup down in a cupholder before leaning over to plant a kiss on his warm lips.

"Mmm, nothing," I hum as I pull away. Something—or some _things _in the backseat catch my eye, so I turn and look. There's got to be at least two hundred rolled up and bagged newspapers on the leather seats.

"So now you have a paper delivery route?" I joke, completely confused.

"No, my friend Roger does," he chuckles while turning to look out the back window as he backs out of the parking spot. "He also has the flu, so I'm covering for him."

"That's nice of you," I smile as I watch the gas station and Dak inside the store getting smaller in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah, I'm just Mr. Perfect aren't I?" he turns the volume to the radio up. "Plus, everyone's delivered a paper at least once. So I figured it's just another thing you could cross off your list."

"Huh," I shrug. I had never known anyone to deliver newspapers before—not in my neighborhood at least. We drive until we're in another section of the town that I don't quite know yet, but it only takes a couple minutes for me to pinpoint how far down the beach we are from Mercede's shop, the skate shop, Mercedes' house, everything.

"Eleven hundred, that's you," James slows the car down so I can locate my first target. I get a couple of newspapers from the back and drop the extras in my lap before getting a good grip on the rolled up paper and toss it towards the door stoop.

"Fuck," I mutter as it hit the steps before bouncing down on to the lawn. "Should I get that?"

"No," James shakes his head, continuing on. "That's an okay spot, they'll see it."

"Alright, this one's mine," I promise him as I take another rolled up newspaper and launch it at the next house over from the first one. The paper hits the driveway at a funny angle before rolling under the hedges lining the driveway itself.

James stops the car so I can hop out for the paper. I get on all fours once I find the paper and pull it out from under the bush, getting leaves and twigs stuck in my hair.

"I suck at this," I sigh when I sit back down in the car.

"No you don't," he chuckles. "It's harder than it looks, no need to be a sore loser," he teases with a tongue stuck out.

"Look, achievement is my thing, alright?" I raise an eyebrow. "I've never _not_ done anything I've wanted to do, and not done it well."

"Except sing," he points out while throwing a paper out of his side of the car—landing perfectly on the top porch step of a house. I freeze, thinking about what he said. He's right.

"Except…sing…" my voice trails off as I basically toss the next newspaper at a cat sitting on the railing of the next house. However, it flies past the pissed off cat and perfectly on to the doormat, much to my pleasure. "Jesus," I laugh at my victory as a paperboy.

"There you go," he laughs as well, stopping the car for the cat I scared with my newspaper. The cat looks right at me as he moves, I swear he's giving me a death glare.

"But what about you?" I whisper when the laughter finally dies down. "You don't seem to accept failure either," I look him in the eyes.

He shrugs before saying, "Yeah. I do."

"Wow, what _has_ Mr. Perfect failed at?" I throw another paper as soon as the cat is cleared out of the road and we're moving on.

"The real question is," James throws a paper—another perfect one. "What _hasn't_ Mr. Perfect failed at?"

"You?" I'm a little shocked to hear this, his usually confident attitude seems to have been washed away from his memory. "Give me some examples then, I don't believe you."

"You don't believe me," he chuckles. "Well let's see." We sit in silence for a little bit, continuing to toss the newspapers—I think I've _finally_ got the hang of it.

"See?" I say as he continues to sit silent. "You can't even come up with one—"

"Winning over Will Blakeson's mother while we were dating, she still hates me," he starts to list some things.

"Okay...?"

"Learning how to use a hairdryer in the mornings after I shower, once I almost set the bathroom on fire," he smiles fondly at the memory.

"Go on," I urge him as we both pause to throw another newspaper.

"Coping with Jett Stetson becoming my stepbrother."

"Really?" I ask, grinning a little. It's good to know I'm not the only one who can't stand Jett's guts.

"Yeah, really. When I first heard about my mother getting married to his father—I moved into Eric's house for three days just to _attempt_ to prove a point," James chuckles.

"Wow," I laugh. "That's a little far-fetched, don't you think? Keep going, Diamond," I push him forward.

"How 'bout not understanding that something was wrong with my best friend's health for almost a year before he died?" he goes past his own comfort zone on that one. I can almost hear the sound of my heart breaking—his as well.

"Hey, that wasn't your fault—" he cuts me off with the shake of a head.

"It's okay, Kenny," he looks over at me with a weak smile. "It's done, he's gone."

We sat in another silence—this one was less than comfortable however, causing me to have my first bad throw out of at least ten houses.

"Then there was Luke Stone," almost a full minute later he sighs—neither a happy or sad one.

"Luke Stone…" I don't understand the significance of the name like he does.

"In seventh grade I really liked him," James smirks. "Eric threatened to run over my skateboards with his dad's car if I didn't man up and ask Luke to go out with me."

"And?"

"I worked up the courage for like, three months straight, and Luke rejected me in a heartbeat in front of the entire cafeteria."

"Ouch."

"Tell me about it," he snorts. "Luke's still an asshole now, he's the tattoo artist on the other side of the town." I know about the tattoo shop that I had driven past a couple of times when I first got here—trying to explore the small town. I never paid much thought to it though—it was just a tattoo shop. But now, it was the asshole who rejected James' tattoo shop.

"That's not a lot of things," I finally give in. "You really still are Mr. Perfect, _Mr. Perfect_."

"Yeah yeah, now it's your turn—after you deliver the last newspaper to your last house," he nods towards a smaller house on the end corner of the street before putting the car into park. Straight ahead I see rocks, water, and the lighthouse at a distance. I throw the paper with ease, angling it perfectly so it lands where I need it to land.

"Nice," James lifts his right hand up for a high five. "That's another thing crossed off your list."

"Great," I feel another weight being lifted of my chest—funny what a bunch of papers on your doorstep can do.

"Now, spill it. What have you failed at Mr. _Achievement_?" he teases.

I sigh as I come up with tons of things I could tell him—I could go on for hours.

"Do you think we could go somewhere?" I turn and ask. "There are a lot of things I can say to answer that question."

He smiles before putting the car into drive. "I know a place."

Almost twenty minutes later we're sitting on a cliff, way above the ocean and the town of Colby below. Heights were never my thing, but right now, sitting on the hood of James' car with him all the way up here wasn't so bad. In fact, it wasn't bad at all.

"It's amazing up here," I turn my head every which way to look. We really are on the top of a cliff, at the end of a road that came all the way up to the edge.

"Yeah, no one really knows about it, at least _I've_ never brought anyone up here," James sighs. My mind flickers back to what Carlos said to me earlier_—"He's never done that alone with someone before…all I'm saying is, what you two have, it's real."_

I grin. "So why'd you take me up here?"

His eyes change moods for a split second—even though it's dark I can see that the fear and hesitation in his eyes goes to happiness and trust, but only for that split second.

"Cause," he shrugs it off, grinning. "Maybe I'll tell you after you tell me your failures. Go, Knight."

"Oh," I groan. "Uh, okay so there's the fact that I haven't lived up to anyone's expectations of a teenage life."

"Alright," James nods smirking. I look away from him and out over the ocean, watching some waves crash in the deep waters.

"Then there's Swimmy," I remember my goldfish from third grade.

"Swimmy?" James has to hold his stomach while he's laughing.

"Kevin won it from some game at a carnival that I wasn't allowed to go to—which, for the record I was really upset about, anyways, he won the fish and brought it home to me."

"Let me guess," James snorts. "Swimmy didn't live for very long."

"Woah, don't get ahead of me," I hold my hands up to stop him. "When I got Swimmy, I was so in love and amazed that I promised him I'd never let _anything_ happen to him."

"Aww," James smiles at the apparent adorable relationship I had with a goldfish.

"The next day I came into my room after my piano lesson—the bowl was covered in silly string, and Swimmy was laying belly up on the top of the water."

"Oh no," James gasps, jokingly. "Silly string?"

"Kevin thought Swimmy might like to eat some of the silly string—boy was _he_ wrong," I frown—Kevin always had the weirdest beliefs and intuitions.

"So that's two things. Tell me at least one more," he pushes me.

I swallow before deciding to tell him, "Keeping my parents together."

I look down at my shoes on the hood of the car before pulling my knees up to my chest and hugging them.

"That wasn't your fault," James points out.

"It was though," I smile weakly at him—thanking him for the comfort he was attempting to give me. "Half the time they fought, it all started with a grade I got in school or a comment from a teacher," I tell him the full truth, I tell him at least what I can remember from the fights.

"Well that's—"

"My fault," I cut him off, looking him dead in the eyes. "But it's okay, cause they're both happier now."

"But you're not," he sighs, moving towards me on the car and sliding an arm over my shoulder to pull me close.

"I'm fine," I lie. I really never thought too much about what _I_ felt about the divorce, how it affected me. But now James was forcing me to face reality. I still wasn't fine—I still hated my parents for all of the fighting and causing my insomnia. Maybe I was trying to be more mature than I really had to be all this time.

"This cliff," James interrupts my thoughts, changing the subject. "Eric and I used to come up here sometimes, just to talk. Figure out life."

I wrap both of my arms around his waist and lean into him more, so that James was supporting the both of us completely.

"The night he died, he told me he wanted his ashes spread over this cliff."

I take in a sharp breath, trying not to tear up or cry. I needed to be the strong one this time, for James. Why? Because I _love_ him. My eyes widen—thankfully he can't see them doing that, because of the breakthrough I'm having.

"So his parents, family, and myself came up here to spread them," he continues on as I have a mini-breakdown in his arms—he has no clue what I'm going through right now.

_Should I tell him?_

"So, you wanna know why I took you up here?" his words don't even register in my mind as I continue to freak the fuck out.

_Does he feel the same way? Oh my god what do I do?_

"Because, Kendall,"

_Okay just tell him. One, two, three—_

"I love you," we both say at the exact same time.

I pull away from his hold—eyes even wider than before. He definitely just said the same thing as I did.

"Wait," he asks as soon as I'm looking him straight in the eyes. "Did you just say—"

My lips on his cut off his words, pushing him back, flat against the hood of the car until I'm laying on top of him and kissing him hungrily. I pull away, grinning.

His eyes are wide, cheeks red, beautiful brown hair messy—his mind is definitely just as blown as mine.

"So neither of us are perfect," I start, trying to explain to him what I said before. "But I love you anyways, James." I confirm his questions and get rid of all confusion before leaning back down to kiss him harder than before, even more desperate. I attach my lips and teeth to James' neck, sucking and biting as he tugs on my hair and flips us over on the top of his car.

"James," I whisper as he pulls me away from his neck and slides his tongue into my mouth, greeting mine with excitement and passion.

I don't actually realize how long we've been going at it for until both of our groans and moans are loud enough to hear over the heavy breathing and body movements on top of each other. He turns his head so I have access to his tan neck again, as if he were asking me to kiss him there again.

I certainly can't remember the last time I've gone this far with someone this amazing—but it's been far too long. _What if I'm doing something wrong? _

"Fuck, Kendall!"

_Nope, I'm doing it right._

* * *

**Oh, maybe a little sexy Kames? Maybe baby ;)**

**Maybe you'll just have to see next week :0**

**I'm sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes you see, I really am.. It really bothers me when I find them too, no worries.**

**PLEASE REVIEW :)**

**xx**

**Sarah**


	12. Treats and Postit Notes

**OH MY GOSH 100 reviews already and I'm only Chapter 12? Excuse my French…but… Fuck!**

**Now, as usual I'll thank those of you who reviewed on top of all of the other stuff mentioned: Kamesplus61, XxxAnimaniacxxX, LoveSparkle, Moonbeam-987, I'mJustAVirusInsideYourHead, annabellex2, Love and Heartz, jamesmaslowlover, WonderlandGirl457, Hikari no Kasai, Book-Mania-Girl520, KEALY KAMES, Just Fetching**_**(my 100**__**th**__** reviewer ahhh!).**_

**Here you go, as promised! Hot off of a word document and ready to read ;)**

**It's late and as usual I'm rushing to meet my weekly deadline, so I'm sure there's a ton of mistakes in this one...I'm really sorry and if you want you can leave a hateful review correcting me.**

**Chapter 12:**

* * *

"Mmm Jamie?"

I hum into my boyfriend's naked chest in the backseat of his car. _Boyfriend…_ I smile at just the thought of the word.

"What's up Kenny?" He asks as he reaches up to circles his fingers over my shoulder blade.

"What time is it?" I ask, wishing we could stay like this forever.

The past few hours for James and I were absolute bliss—complete and utter distraction from our discussion about my parents, Eric, and everything else that stressed the two of us out.

I feel his right arm fish for a phone down below on the floor of the car. "Ah, there it is," he says victoriously as he picks up his phone to check the time. "It's almost three."

"Fuck," I mutter. "We should probably get back to town soon," I sigh, sitting up and looking around for my clothes.

"You're probably right. That was too much fun," he chuckles as soon as he can wiggle out from his position underneath me and search for his own clothes.

Truth is, as soon as we spit out the 'I love you's, James and I were all over each other—devouring every inch of body available to each other.

"It was," I chuckle right back, sliding my shirt over my head.

"So," he moves to open the door on his right after he's fully dressed again—minus his shoes. He waits until I'm fully dressed again to say, "Shall we?"

"We shall."

* * *

It only takes another twenty minutes for us to be back in town, driving past James' house and towards my father's. When I can finally see the house, a little bit of sadness washes over me. Of course, it was probably my male teenage hormones kicking in—wanting more of James, more _time_ with him.

"I figure, since, it's family and all," James stops the car in front of my father's house to fish something else out of the backseat, "That you can deliver this one." He holds up a rolled up newspaper that's held together in the middle by a thick rubber band and hands it to me.

"Alright, I got this one," I nod, accepting the challenge of the long driveway and elevated porch. I open the window and throw the paper with all of the strength I can muster. To my luck, though, it lands flat on Mercedes' Prius windshield.

"Okay so even though it's family, that deserves a redo," James snorts.

"Alright alright, I'll see you tomorrow, thanks for tonight." I lean over for a kiss, giving him a quick peck before hopping out of the car.

"I love you," he winks through the open window.

"Love you too," I almost laugh, but try to keep it quiet knowing everyone in the house would be asleep—or so I thought.

As I grab the newspaper off of the expensive car eco-friendly car, I creep my way up the porch as James remains at the bottom of the driveway, just to make sure that I get inside okay. I keep making my way up slowly and quietly until I hear shouting and yelling from none other than inside the dark house.

Apparently no one was asleep in the house before I got here. In fact, everyone was wide-awake, busy in a conversation—or worse, an argument.

I freeze and lean against the door, dropping the paper on the center of the front mat.

"…Just my point!" my father starts as I tune in to the discussion. "I wanted you to have a night out with your friends, something _you_ wanted. Now what about what _I _want, Mercedes?"

Here comes those skills I had kept tucked away—like I said I can always tell when an argument or a fight has started, or is ending. This one had only just begun.

"Are you saying you don't want the baby?" Mercedes almost shrieks—her voice is high and shaky, I can tell she's about to cry. "Because if that's true you can just—"

"It's not about the baby," my father sighs with a firm voice.

"Then what's it about?" Mercedes presses on. I shrink against the door, tears filling up my eyes. _Poor Mercedes._

"Our lives changed," my father is starting to give up, I can feel it. "They've changed so much."

"You've done this before, Jonathan," my stepmother argues. "_Twice_. Don't you think you can handle it _one more time_?"

I almost fall over from my uncomfortable leaning position, gripping on to the railing next to me for support. This wasn't supposed to happen—Mercedes and my father were supposed to work out and be together for the rest of their lives. _My father was supposed to change._

"I could barely handle it the first time. Kevin was crazy and Kendall…" My dad pauses to think, as I take a sharp inhale of breath—terrified for the rest of the sentence to come.

"Kendall was what, Jon?" Mercedes fights for me, something inside me full of passion for this woman who I had judged so much beforehand blooms as I wait for my father to answer.

"I didn't want the second child," he finishes. I suddenly feel like I've been stabbed in the chest too many times to count before my father goes on, "I love Kendall, so much. I really do, I just wasn't ready."

"You weren't ready?" Mercedes' voice lowers itself again; I can hear the pity she has for me in her sad little voice. My eyes land on a burnt out candle on the little table in between the rocking chairs on the porch. I keep my eyes fixed there, hoping I don't visualize Mercedes' broken facial expression or my father's annoyed and angry one.

"I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready for all of this, either. That's the truth, Mer," my dad obviously tries to comfort my stepmother, but she probably takes a step away at this point—distancing herself from the man she calls her husband.

"You weren't ready," Mercedes repeats herself, and then pauses. "Well Jon?"

There's a dead silence, nothing moves or makes a sound. James' car engine, the ocean, the baby screaming upstairs in the house, the leaves rustling in the trees—it all stops, waits for Mercedes to finish her statement.

"This is your family. Ready or not."

At this point all of the sounds previously muted come crashing back, straight into me. The ocean waves crash like twenty cars colliding at once in the distance, James' car engine shrieks deep in my eardrums, and Kenzie screams loud enough to wake up all of the dead people in the cemeteries all over the world.

I finally let myself fall over, before I stand up and almost fall down the stairs again, rushing down to James' car. The door is already open by the time I get there, and the only word said aloud when I slide into the passenger seat is:

"Drive."

* * *

"Sorry for all of this," James motions to the clothes thrown over his medium-sized bed shoved in the corner of his one-room apartment.

I stare ahead, ignoring the clothes and otherwise perfectly cleaned room and say nothing. James sighs and walks over to the bed to pick up the clothes, saying nothing either. I appreciated his silence though—it meant he was making an effort to ignore the fact that I had only just lost it in his car moments ago.

After we pulled away from my father's house at three thirty in the morning, there was absolute silence except for the purr of the engine.

"Kenny, you okay?" he sighs after turning off the ignition when we pull into a small garage with a bunch of bikes and skateboards shoved in the corner uncomfortably.

That's when I absolutely lost it.

It's embarrassing to cry in front of people—I know, but it's not like it's the first time I've done it. There was the time in fifth grade when someone stole my favorite red marker—I was young, and I cried in front of the entire class. There was the other time in front of my mom when she yelled at me for getting a B+ on a science project in seventh grade.

Then there was the night a couple weeks ago that Jett had hit me several times—the night James first kissed me.

And then there's only moments ago, when I actually exploded awful hiccups and sobs right in front of the guy I love. Now _that's_ embarrassing. I understand when you love someone, you should be able to see past tear-stained cheeks and red eyes, but I'm not exactly sure how James could possibly love me after what happened in that car—when I cried my eyes out while we sat idling in the car in his tiny garage until I had no tears left to cry.

"Come on baby," James gets out of the car after what seems like hours. It takes me a moment to register his request, but I finally manage to get out of the car and follow him up a narrow staircase that leads to his 'home'.

"Sit," James orders after deciding that I'm too empty minded at the moment to function on my own. I sit in the single chair that he has at a table—one chair.

It isn't until the smell of coffee wafts over and hits my face—snapping me out of my trance.

"You know how I told you about my failures earlier?" I suddenly find myself spilling words out.

"Mmhm," he pours two cups of coffee before setting one down in front of me on the table.

"Yeah, keeping my parents together is now a double failure," I chuckle darkly in spite of myself. He gives me a questioning look, confused.

"Mercedes and my dad," I catch his confusion and solve it. "They were fighting when I got to the front door."

God, I was still blubbering like a fucking baby—like Kenzie. My voice was tied up and choked like a pig for slaughter, and I sniffle in between every couple words.

"I guess things have been bumpy since Kenzie came," I swallow down a lump in my throat, "It all blew up tonight."

"Just because they're fighting doesn't mean one, they're splitting up, and two, it's your fault."

"But it does mean that, I know my dad. No matter how much I change, or you change, or anyone changes, he won't _ever_ change."

And there goes the tears again.

"Kendall don't cry," James sighs before he walks over to me and wraps his arms around me.

"I can't help it," I sob into his shirt. "I'm sorry I'm such a girl."

"Even if you are a girl," James teases. "I still love you."

I laugh weakly at that, reaching a hand up to wipe up the tear-residue on my cheeks.

"Thanks James," I smile as he walks over to the stove and bends over to find a pan in the cabinet below. He then straightens up and opens the cupboards above the stove to grab the box of Rice Krispie treats sitting in the center of the shelf.

I stop paying attention to what he's doing as my mind flickers back to what Mercedes said before I ran for it, _"This is your family. Ready or not."_

I stare numbly down at my hands, tightly wrapped around the coffee mug with a Starbucks logo on it.

"Kendall?" James asks for my attention, but I'm too distracted by Mercedes' voice in my head again.

"_Ready or not."_

Suddenly I feel tears on my cheeks again. _God damnit, Kendall_. _Stop your fucking crying._

"Shh, it's alright," I can hear my own mind's soothing words—almost as if they were being said aloud. "It's okay, everything will be fine."

_Wait a second. They are being said aloud._

That's when I realize James' arms around wrapped around me again, and he's whispering those soothing words I was used to saying myself, alone, in a dark room late at night when I was younger.

"James," I whimper, crying into his shirt again. "I love you."

"I love you too, Kendall. Everything is going to be fine."

* * *

Nobody and nothing is perfect—that's a well known saying. But James is pretty god damn perfect, if you ask me. And so are his Rice Krispie Treats.

"God," I moan as I finish off only the first of many treats to enter my mouth an hour after arriving at James' apartment. "What did I deserve _these_ for?"

"My mom used to make them whenever Eric or myself cried," he shrugged. "Always made me feel better."

"Oh my god, I feel so much better," I laugh as I stuff another marshmallow treat into my mouth, enjoying every tastebud orgasm that occurred.

"Good," he laughs at another obscene moan I accidentally let out. We put the pan of Krispie treats on the chair I had been sitting on—seeing as there was only one chair in the entire apartment. We both sat on the floor around it, using it as a table.

"What happens when you have company?" I ask, confused as to why he lived such a minimalist lifestyle.

"I don't," he said blatantly, licking his fingers after picking a crumb off of the pan.

"Really."

"Yup, and more than half of the furniture that I had at my old place was Eric's," he shrugs, staring at the empty pan that used to be filled with a delicious marshmallowy dessert. I almost flinch at Eric's name, but hold myself back—just like I do every other time his name is mentioned. I feel good though, nonetheless, that James feels comfortable mentioning Eric around me so nonchalantly.

"So what was the deal there? You bought the place he bought the furniture?" I ask.

"Pretty much. One night at a competition he placed first and got a shitload of prize money," he nods. "Bought all this random shit. Including this bike that he'd always wanted to try—even though it was insanely expensive and a complete uncomfortable piece of shit."

"How'd he like it?" I smile, liking that he can finally talk about Eric freely—as much as he wants, cause we're finally alone in a safe, secluded area. Neither of us had to keep our walls up in here; it was where I had certainly let mine down.

"Well…he claimed to like it," James scratched the back of his head with a light yet hearty laugh. "But he always had these back problems from the way he had to bend over to hold on to the handlebars."

"So it really was a piece of shit bike."

"Fuck yeah it was," James blew a piece of perfect hair out of his beautiful hazel eyes. "But he kept riding it, blamed the back problems on the equally shitty mattress he loved so much."

"Did he stop riding it ever?"

"No," James said, dropping his eyes from mine. "He died."

_Dumbass,_ I scold myself for asking such a insensitive and stupid question.

"James, I'm sorry—" I start, begging him to ignore the fact that I asked in the first place.

"It's okay," he lifts one of the hands he was leaning back on for support to wave away my apology. "All of the stories end the same—every fucking one of them. He died."

"James it wasn't your fault," I say sternly, trying to remind him what he had been telling me about my parents divorce only an hour ago.

"But which one of us got to live in the end?" he looks at me, piercing through my heart in a quick stab with a simple gaze.

"James—" I have nothing to say, but even if I had something to say he cut me off as he stands up.

"I did. That's the worse part. I was the one who spent the most time with him—I didn't even notice his health getting worse, any differences. And that's what kills me."

"It's not your fault!" I'm going into hysterics at this point.

"But it is, and everyone else knows it too. His parents, our friends, everyone. They see me as the one who got to live, the one who didn't stop him from dying."

"Cancer isn't something you can just stop James!" I jump up to stand with him, begging him to see reason. "It wasn't your fucking fault, it never will be, if anything it's his! He should have said something! But now you're here feeling too sorry for yourself to let yourself see reason!" I'm now angry with him—he can't let himself live in the quiet and isolated lifestyle anymore.

"It wasn't his fault, it was mine."

"James Diamond!" I shout this time. "You fucking listen to me! If it were your fault other people would hate you! They wouldn't talk about you and they would want you dead! Nobody hates you James! Nobody wants to kill you! I_t's not your fucking fault!_"

He goes quiet for a moment; his eyes go dark and unreadable. I let myself calm down a bit, staring right at him and not letting my gaze drop. Soon though his eyes light up and he grins.

"You're really hot when you're angry," he takes a step forward and rubs my arm with a yawn. "I think we should get to bed."

"That's it?" I'm at a loss for words. _After all of the yelling I just did at him? He's willing to see past that?_

"Come to bed with me, baby," he ignores my death glare and grabs my hand, pulling me towards the bed.

"You're not even angry with me?" my jaw drops.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" he continues to pull me towards the bed, grinning at me over his shoulder.

"You're impossible," I roll my eyes as he takes a step forward and tugs at the hem of my shirt.

"Mmm but you love me anyways," he leans down and kisses me as he slowly lifts my shirt up. When he pulls away I lift my arms up so he can take my shirt off all the way. Next I take off his, and we're soon only in our boxers.

"I do love you," I sigh as he wraps his arms around me in bed. It's four-thirty now according to his alarm clock—just about time I return home most nights. "So much it hurts me that we've only known each other for a couple of weeks."

"It's amazing, isn't it," he says as I put my head down on his chest, taking in his sweet scent. "I don't think I've ever gotten so close to anybody in such a short time."

"Me neither, James," I admit. "But I'm glad I got close with _you._"

_Well that was cheesy;_ I scold myself again for the dumb and cheesy comment. God, when did I become so lame?

"Mmm, I agree," he hums as I feel his warm lips touch the top of my head for a sweet and soft kiss.

Looking across the room to the blank wall, I can see that the sky is already lighting up with the morning sun—in just a few hours the night will be gone and all of the problems caused in the late hours will act as if they never happened.

After a few minutes of listening to James' breathing steady itself and even out—I finally let the comfortable and warm feeling of sleep take over me.

* * *

When I wake up, at first I don't remember where I am. Then I feel the warm naked skin underneath me, heaving up and down slowly. I smile to myself before kissing James' chest and looking at the alarm clock. It's seven-thirty now, only three hours ago was I just getting to bed. I know I ought to get back to the house—Mercedes might call the police if she notices I'm gone when she wakes up.

I slowly get up and walk over to the kitchen area with my clothes, hoping to make less noise over here rather than near the bed where I could possibly wake up James.

When I'm dressed and I have everything ready to go, I glance around the kitchen for a notepad—something to tell James how grateful I am he let me spend the night and just how much I love him.

I smile to myself when I find a little stack of post it notes next to the fridge with a pen next to it. My smile fades as I see that the top post it note on the stack has something written on it in a messy and funny handwriting.

_JayJay, headed to the supermarket for some grub, then Logan's—see ya later bro  
–Eric :)_

My smile grows again; James had kept this for more than a year just because he missed Eric's presence, his best friend. I carefully take a post it from the bottom of the stack and take the pen from the counter so I can write a note:

_Thank you for last night, I love you so much it's just not even funny anymore ;) I'll see you later; remember:  
__It's not your fault.  
- Kendall_

* * *

**Short chapter, I know. Don't kill me yet.**

**I've just started school, next week's chapter will be bigger and better and fabulous.**

**Review if you'd like :)**

**Again I'm sorry if there's a lot of spelling/grammar mistakes.**

**xx**

**Sarah**


	13. Don't Think Twice, It's All Right

**Oh dear god it's been two weeks….. mostly cause of my Physics teacher..JUST BECAUSE we have to call her Dr. does not mean she should load a shitload of work in the first two weeks of school…. :/ Anyways..**

**Hi reviewers ;) XxxAnimaniacxxX, Kamesplus61, DramaJen89, Hikari no Kasai, annabellex2, Love and Heartz, jamesmaslowlover, DeniseDEMD. You guys ROCK.**

**Okay so there was confusion, even I was confused with myself—with the END of Chapter 11, and the beginning of Chapter 12. **_**James and Kendall didn't have sex, just some fooling around on/in James' car. No sex.**_** I'm really sorry I had no clue where I was going with that either, don't hate me . I'm going to provide some more clarity in the chapter though so…keep a heads up for that.**

**Anyways, here you go!**

**Chapter 12:**

* * *

Nothing could shove me out of my good mood this morning.

Absolutely nothing, not even the pile of suitcases with my father's initials: JDK, printed on them sitting on the front porch. Not the accompanying taxi cab at the end of the driveway either.

I didn't flinch as my father opened the front door the same time I reached for the doorknob—hoping for an easy and quiet entrance. Obviously that wasn't going to happen as my father almost screamed when he saw me standing in front of him.

"Shit, Kendall," he says as he looks me over. I neither shudder nor cover myself as his gaze runs from my head to my toes like I usually do. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest and give him a disapproving look, staying silent.

"Long night, huh buddy?" He chuckles nervously, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck as the taxi driver comes up to the porch and starts taking the suitcases away from the pile. I continue to stare down my father, waiting for an answer.

"Look, Mercedes and I need to work some things out," he refuses to look me in the eyes—obviously ashamed. "So I'm going to stay at a hotel for a couple of days. If it upsets you or anything you can come—"

"Go," I wave him towards the taxi. "We can manage without you."

"Kendall," my father's broken eyes finally meet mine, scared shitless from the tone of my voice. I snort and roll my eyes before shoving past him and into the house, closing the door quietly behind me out of respect for Mercedes and the baby.

From the entryway I shed my jacket and my shoes, exhaling a breath full of relief and gladness. It's good my father is going to be away, Mercedes isn't the _only_ one who needs a break from him.

I move into the house to the kitchen with a light smile on my face, the image of James sleeping peacefully as I left him this morning. I go to the fridge, where I grab the orange juice carton and drink what's left of it.

"Oh! Kendall," Mercedes pops into the kitchen, frightened by my sudden presence. "I didn't know you were…" she trails off. I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. "Going to stay with me anymore."

"Why wouldn't I?" I walk over to the garbage can where I ditch the orange juice carton.

"Well," she takes a step closer, slowly and cautiously into the kitchen. "You see your father—"

"I know, I ran into him on my way in," I wave her off casually. James was really getting the best of me this morning. Her expression breaks somehow and she's left standing in the middle of the kitchen with me, looking awkward. "You don't have to explain anything, Mercedes. We all need a little time away from him." She breaks into a silent sob as I walk out of the kitchen and upstairs, into my room.

* * *

After willing myself to sleep for a couple hours after leaving Mercedes in the kitchen downstairs, I wake up to the sound of a muffled phone argument. When I realize I'm not in James' arms at the moment, I sigh and let the bad morning mood finally hit me.

"I know Elaine," Mercedes sighs as I walk into the kitchen, yawning and stretching at the same time. I lift an arm up and listen to my shoulders and joints pop out of protest to waking up. "I just haven't had much time to think about the Bash yet!" she rolls her eyes at something the other woman says on the end of the phone line.

"I will get back to you," she sighs after a while. "Good day Elaine." She drops her head into her hands on the counter after ending the call and almost throwing her phone across the kitchen.

"The Bash?" I interrupt her reflection time while grabbing a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker.

"It's this dance thing I volunteer myself to do every year," she sighs, tugging at a loose strand of blonde hair hanging from her ponytail. "I have no idea why, I just do it. I need to think of a killer theme and find a singer or a band to perform too."

_I can sing._

Swallowing thickly at the thought of performing in front of people, I silently scold myself for even thinking of singing at this 'Bash' thing.

"We sell tickets, all of the stores on the boardwalk create their little booths and sell there… it's kind of like the last event of the summer—wait, don't you sing?"

_What? How could she—_

"Your father told me you have an amazing voice! You should sing at the bash! Oh it would be great and—"

"I can't," I cut her short, not wanting her hopes to get too high before I step on them. Her face falls before she sighs and nods.

"You'll think of a theme," I say after a while, hoping she won't hate me after my little freak out.

"Thank you, Kendall," she chuckles heavily; reaching a hand up to rub her eye and wipe off her smudged makeup. "I'm just not in that festive place right now."

I lean against the counter behind me, slowly sipping the hot coffee and trying to enjoy the silence.

"Just let me know if you have anything left you have to do before school, we can go do that if you'd like," she offers with a smile. That's how I know I'm in the clear; she must have understood that I stopped singing for a reason. "I truthfully don't know how long it will be before your father comes back."

"Alright," I nod, even though I know I'm more than three hundred percent ready for college, from supplies to dorm situations. "Thank you."

"What are you thinking of doing today?" she keeps talking—even though I just want some peace and quiet for the moment.

"I'm going to head down to the shop soon," I decide.

"That's good—" she's cut off by the sound of her ringtone again. "Joanna," she sighs. "I didn't want to call you or mention him, I knew you'd just say I told you so," she brings a hand up to cover her mouth, tears welling up.

_And that's my cue to leave._

* * *

By the time I'm out of the house and can finally breathe again, it's sometime in the afternoon and the sun isn't too hot on my skin—having too much sun on my head was something I used to hate about the beach. It was the perfect weather now though, for a somewhat perfect day. I close my eyes momentarily as I walk, and picture James sleeping again—the image that's been calming me down all day. I open my eyes again, knowing I would probably end up tripping on something or some_one _if I kept my eyes closed.

"The key is wearing the right color bathing suit underneath with this," I see Camille holding up a see-through cover-up dress to a customer as I open the door to Inlet Outlet surf shop. She glances over quickly and smiles with a wave before turning her attention back to the skinny woman she was helping. When I make it to the counter, Carlos is talking to Dak with a grin and a blush on his face. Dak says something quietly before Carlos giggles and finally notices me.

"Oh my god! Kendall," he blushes even harder now, knowing I've caught him. I grin at him, raising an eyebrow. He looks embarrassed, to say the least.

"Afternoon boys," I nod before pointing to the office door where my work awaits me.

It's only a half an hour that I'm into adding numbers and creating tax deductions that Carlos and Dak are making their goodbyes through the thin walls between the store floor and the office.

The more I sunk myself into the heavy amounts of work, the more I felt guilt chewing on my insides for not saying yes to Mercedes about singing at the Bash. Why? Because I knew it would help her if I agreed—yet I still said no and left her with nothing. After all she'd done for me this summer, apparently I was still not going to help _her. _So maybe I'd helped her with the baby—wrong, Mrs. Diamond helped with the baby. I'd seriously done nothing for the woman. The poor woman who married my _father._

I jumped when my phone buzzed on the desk in front of me, vibrating out against the painted white wood. I lean forward so I could read the lit up screen—a text from James. I slide my finger across the notification, opening the message with a grin.

**wanna meet up for some coffee tonight? :) xx**

I smile, thinking of the last time we were at Gustavo's for a nice cup of coffee with some amazing pie.

I type a response quickly across the screen, not wanting to make him wait too long.

**Sure :) meet you there at 11?**

I sit and wait, listening as Carlos and Logan shuffled by the open office door with a bunch of heavy boxes—no doubt filled up with more bathing suits and flip flops.

My phone vibrates again, causing another smile.

**11 it is babe. ;)**

I must say, I was a little disappointed when he didn't mention the sticky note I left early in the morning—but I guess it just wasn't that important. Suddenly my phone vibrates again, another text from James.

**P.S. thanks for the sticky note :)**

I sigh out of relief before leaning back in the chair and closing my eyes, humming contently.

"Who ya texting?" Carlos bursts into the office a couple minutes later, making me shout out of surprise.

"Jesus," I throw a hand over my chest, feeling the rapid beat pulsing againt the inside of my skin. "Don't do that to me."

"Sorry," he giggles. "Mercedes called, wanted to know if you were here and okay…"

"Well I'm here," I shrug with a smirk. "Am I not?"

"No, you are," he laughs as he sits down on top of the desk in front of me. "But are you okay?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "I think so." Truth was, the guilt was still eating at me on the inside and I was genuinely feeling bad for Mercedes and the situation she was in currently.

"You think," he raises an eyebrow.

"See my dad left this morning right as I was getting home from—" I shake my head to stop myself from mentioning this morning. I knew Carlos couldn't keep a secret if I told him I spent the night at James'. "You know, to take some time off. Then she started talking about the Bash and how she didn't have a singer, and she kinda asked me if could sing," the words were flying out of my mouth like vomit now. There was no stopping me right now.

"And then I snapped at her cause I haven't sung in front of people since—"

"Wait," Carlos holds a hand up like a brake. "You sing?"

"Kind of?" I can feel my face moving into a pained expression, realizing that I had just revealed to Carlos about my secret 'talent'.

"Kind of?" Carlos stands up, crossing his arms. "I bet you're amazing."

I look down at my shoes. "No," I chuckle. "I stopped a while ago and I won't start again soon."

"Does James know?" Carlos tilts his head to the side, arms still crossed over his chest.

"Yeah," I sigh.

"Have you sung for him?" Carlos is way too interested in this fact about me.

"No!" I'm getting frustrated now.

"Jeez Louise. Okay. Well, maybe you should start again."

"I'm not going to start now, not ever," I snap, promising myself. Carlos takes a step back.

"Alrighty Mr. I-Don't-Sing. Logan's headed down to the coffee store, want anything?" At least Carlos understands my boundaries, and apparently wasn't going to push me any further.

"Anything with a _lot _of caffeine," I groan. I was starting to get tired.

"You got it," Carlos gives me the 'ok' symbol with both hands. He's about to leave when he gets to the doorway, before turning around.

"Oh yeah, I saw you walking home from somewhere this morning," he winks. "Would I happen to know who's house you spent the night at?" Another wink.

"Damn you Garcia," I sigh, giving up on hiding it. "Just don't share it with anyone."

"Alright Kendall," he laughs. "I'll give Logan the coffee order now, get back to work," he points at the papers on the desk.

I laugh to myself after he leaves—sort of a nervous laugh. Nervous about the fact that Carlos had caught me before I even started to cover up the fact that I slept at James' last night, nervous that he had somehow gotten me to spill that I had a _voice_.

I chuckle under my breath before leaning back into the check register and calculator.

"James you fucker."

* * *

After a grande triple shot mocha latte from Gustavo's that Logan brought me, I was powering through the store's financial papers like there was no tomorrow. By ten-thirty I was sitting on top of the register counter with Carlos, watching Camille trying to teach Logan how to do cartwheels throughout the store.

If I weren't so jacked up on caffeine—and about to go see James for even _more_ caffeine, this would be way out of my normal routine. But right now? It felt right, laughing with Carlos at my two other idiot friends.

"So what are you doing tonight?" I ask Carlos before Logan crashes to the floor out of dizziness after landing a semi-decent cartwheel over by the front window. We both laugh before Carlos sighs.

"I'm hanging out with Dak," he blushes with a sigh.

"Isn't that a good thing?" I acknowledge his sigh.

"It would be, if he didn't emphasize 'as friends' billions of times," he sighs again.

"Ahh," I tilt my head back. "So you do like him."

"He's a dork, but, yeah, I guess I do," Carlos smiles.

"Maybe he's just worried you don't like him back, cause I know he likes you," I snort at Logan again, who's successfully knocked over a mannequin with a yelp of pain.

"You're cleaning that one up!" Carlos announces as Logan groans. From a distance Camille is doubled over out of laughter, clutching her stomach as she tears up from laughing too hard.

"I guess, maybe he'll get some sense knocked into him tonight. We're going mini-golfing," he grins, showing that childish side I knew he has. "There's this place in the next town over that stays open till one in the morning."

"That's always fun, I've never been," at this statement Carlos frowns.

"Oh really?" he whips out his phone and narrows his eyes at me. "We'll fix that someday." A sense of worry washes over me as he looks down at his phone and scrolls through his contacts.

"Who are you texting?" I get even more nervous than I was earlier when Carlos discovered my secret about last night.

"Oh, no one," he says as he sets the phone down at his side on the counter, out of my reach. My phone suddenly vibrates, and that's how I realize exactly who Carlos texted moments ago.

**Change of plans, Knight. Someone gave me another thing to cross off your bucket list ;)**

Carlos giggles as I look away from my phone with a blush spreading across my face.

"You suck," I shake my head as I hop off the counter and turn to face him.

"I also swallow," he winks at me.

"Too much information," I laugh before turning to leave the store.

"I'll probably see you tonight," Carlos calls after me, before making a lame joke. "Meet you at the seventh hole!"

* * *

"So you told her no?"

"Just flat out no," I nodded as I putted my green golf ball into the fourth hole on the mini golf course. James was watching me closely, chuckling whenever I made a bad swing or put—which was a lot of the time.

"But you should have said _yes_," James says, hoping to talk some sense into me. "I bet you'd be an amazing singer at the Bash."

"I shouldn't have yes, because my father shouldn't have told Mercedes anything about me in the first place—he hasn't been in my life for almost eight years."

"But you would be great," James sighs, leading us over to a new hole.

"And you would be great riding that skateboard of yours in front of everyone again," I raise an eyebrow, setting my ball down at the beginning of the course.

_Suck on that, Diamond._

He holds his hands up passively in response.

"At least I've skated in front of you, multiple times," he points out, leaning on his golf club.

"Whatever," I mutter, swinging at the ball lightly. It hits the wooden planks used for bumpers at an angle before making its way over to the hole. It slowly circles around before deciding to fall in, making it my first hole in one.

"Did you see that?" I jump up and down. "You had to have seen that."

"You're okay for a first timer," he grins after I bend over to pick up the ball from inside the hole.

"Well that's cause I can use math and physics to help me," I grin proudly, tapping a finger to the top of my head. "I'm a nerd, remember?"

"Sure, sure. But you still aren't great at this," James walks over and gives me a short and sweet kiss on the cheek before stepping over to the starting point. "Watch the master, rookie."

James had managed to beat me with every little mini-golf hole and challenge, by multiple amounts of strokes. I couldn't imagine what I'd be like playing normal golf on a huge golf course.

"You know, as much as I hated Carlos for making me do this, it's actually kind of fun," I admit when we're at the last hole. This one looks especially difficult, for whatever reason.

"It is, I don't get why you didn't want to go in the first place."

"That's easy, one of the first guys who had ever shown any interest me had planned a date at a mini-golf course," I shrug, recalling the bitter memory. "He later ditched the date for a scholastic competition, he was a nerd too."

Jason Striker. What a douche.

"Well he sounds like a crappy guy," James takes a step closer and kisses me lightly. "I bet I'm a lot better than him."

"You are," I giggle. "I love you."

"Love you too. Now swing away my boy, the course is only open for ten more minutes," he chuckles, taking a step back so I wouldn't hit him with my club. I swing at the ball, making it to the hole in yet another single-stroke.

"Damn, another hole-in-one," I pump my fist in the air out of victory. "Who's the rookie now, huh?"

"I'm sorry, babe, I'll never doubt you again," James says sarcastically with a fake-scared expression.

"Don't push it," I chuckle, waiting for him to finish his putting. As soon as we're done, we get in his car and head back towards Colby.

"Thanks for taking me," I lean over to the driver's side and kiss him on the cheek.

"You're welcome, Kenny. Do you think you can come over for a bit? I wanna show you something," he asks while turning right onto Main Street, hopeful.

"Of course," I nod, wondering what it could possibly be in that tiny apartment that I hadn't seen.

As soon as we're back to his small beach apartment, we go inside. I take a seat at the small table with the single chair and smile as he walks over to his bed and bends over, looking for something underneath. He drags out a guitar case, from under the bed before blowing the dust off the leather case.

"This is what you wanted to show me?" I ask, unimpressed. He nods solemnly as he opens the case and pulls out a beautiful rosewood guitar, with words and markings etched into the wooden face and fret board.

"Here," he stands up with the guitar in hand, bringing it over to me. "Can you play?"

"A little," I lie, another secret that I hadn't mentioned. I played alright, but as soon as the singing stopped—so did the guitar. My music teacher in elementary school had once told me "Never stop playing the guitar, Mr. Knight. Your skills are magic."

"I don't believe you, play me something," he thrusts it at me as if it's poisoned. When I look closer, I look at the etched in words—that are actually initials. Eric, completely carved out, followed by CG, LM, CR, DZ, JS, and JD—all on the fret board. The words carved in the face of the guitar simply said, "Remember me, remember the music."

"This was Eric's, wasn't it," I choke out, feeling moved by the piece of wood and strings.

"It was," James nods sadly. "Played it til the day he died," he sighs, taking a seat on the floor as I turn my chair around with the guitar gently in my lap. I shudder holding it, knowing the last person to play it was James' dead best friend.

"I haven't played in a really long fucking time, don't laugh," I sigh, hesitant to play. "I'm only playing cause I love you, for the record."

"Play away, Kenny, I'm getting tired of waiting," he crosses his legs and leans back against his hands on the floor.

"Jeez," I laugh before thinking of something to play. Eventually I end up playing a simple melody for him, just to regain the knowledge and feeling of playing a guitar—only taking a couple minutes. When I'm done, I smile to myself—feeling accomplished.

"Here," I stand up and try to hand it to him.

"Nope, hold on to that. Now you have to sing along with it," he looks up from his position on the floor as refuses to take the guitar from me.

"What?" I stare at him, hoping he's joking. His serious expression, however, tells me he's not kidding, and wants me to sing.

Of course he does, he's been asking me to for a while now. But that wasn't the point. When was the last time I sang in front of anyone?

"Please, Kendall," James begs quietly as I stand with the guitar in my hand, thinking. "It would mean so much if you sang to me."

"This wasn't part of the deal," I give in as I look at his warm hazel eyes, slowly melting any of my resistance abilities away. "But fine. Just this once. No more asking."

"I can't promise you that," James smiles weakly as I sit down in the chair again, settling the guitar into my hands.

"You're pushing your luck again," I chuckle, nervous. The familiar sweating in my palms occurred, and I had to swallow multiple times before I could clear my throat and think of something to play. "Okay," I say when I finally think of a tune I might be able to pull off without fucking up too badly—one I used to sing all the time.

"I used to sing this to myself a lot," I lock my eyes on his. "I think you might like it, maybe not. I don't know. Just don't hate me if I mess up."

James' face grows serious before he nods, willing me on.

My fingers start strumming and moving over the strings. For whatever reason, the sound coming from Eric's guitar is better than any other guitar I've ever played. I take a deep breath after James closes his eyes, leaning back and enjoying the music.

"_It ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe,"_ I breathe out the first line of my favorite Bob Dylan song, feeling a little bit too exposed for my liking—but this is James I'm talking about. I'm in love with him; I would have to learn to sing for him eventually. _"It don't matter, anyhow… And it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe."_

I look down and focus on the strings—making sure I make this the best performance I've ever given for James.

"_If you don't know by now. When your rooster crows at the break of dawn, look out your window and I'll be gone. You're the reason I'm travelin' on. Don't think twice, it's alright."_

I look up from the strings in between the verses to look at James. He's sitting in the same position I last saw him in, head back eyes closed. But if I don't know any better, I would say he's crying a little bit. I keep playing on, letting the emotions of the song take over us both.

"_It ain't no use in turnin' on your light, Jamie,"_ I switched up the verse a little as I grabbed James' attention. He opened his eyes and looked at me as I sang out 'Jamie', with the evident tear stains rolling down his cheeks. "_That light I never knowed. And it ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe. I'm on the dark side of the road."_

James slowly made his way up and wiped the tears off of his cheeks as he walked closer to me. He leaned against the table at my side and continued listening.

"_Still I wish there was somethin' you would do or say, to try and make me change my mind and stay,"_ I wink at him, hoping he still loves me—despite the serious and gloomy look on his face, tears in his eyes.

"_We never did too much talkin' anyways. So don't think twice, it's all right."_

I let my fingers run over the strings for a couple more minutes, wordlessly. James continued to sit silent, reaching up to wipe at some tears everyone once in a while. Once I was done, I stood up and walked over to the guitar case silently, putting the guitar away gently. When the curved sides of the guitar slid in to the fitted case, I closed the top and latched the latches, sliding the guitar back under the bed.

When I stand up, I stay motionless until I feel James walk up behind me, breathing on the back of my neck. I turn around to face his tear stained face, eyes full of emotion.

"I told you I haven't really sung that's why I was so aw—"

"That was beautiful," James choked out, clearly unsure of what to say or do to shut me up.

"It wasn't really," I drop my eyes and blush, looking down at our toes—they're touching.

"Kendall," James lifts a hand up to tilt my chin up to look at him. "I'll be dreaming of that song for the rest of my life."

"Bob Dylan sang it better, trust—"

"Will you shut up?" James chuckles, wiping the last of his tears out of his eyes. "Kendall honestly, I think I love you even more now. Thank you for singing."

At this I sigh, realizing I had indeed broken the promise to myself about not singing _ever_ again. However, I'm glad I sang for James, out of anyone else in the world. Not my mother or father, not Kevin, Kenzie, Carlos, Logan or Camille. Just James.

"You're welcome, I hope you enjoyed it. I don't know the next time it's going to happen," I keep rambling pathetically, before I'm cut off by a kiss. James pushes his lips against mine, a redeeming feeling. The soft warm lips massage mine slowly before he pulls away.

"Stay the night?" he takes my hand, nodding towards his bed on our left.

"Of course," I breathe out, letting him pull my shirt off and unbuckle my belt. We spend the next few moments undressing ourselves before turning off the light and settling into bed.

"Fuck," James mutters after a few minutes of tangling our bodies together and attempting to fall asleep.

"What?" I lift my head up off of his chest.

"I just…your voice, that song," he breathes out heavily, as if he's losing his mind.

"I'm sorry," I lean up to kiss his chin. "What about it Jamie?" I lift a finger to play with a piece of hair laying on his forehead.

"It's stuck in my head, so beautiful," he sighs, lifting a hand to run it over his face and through his hair.

"I'm sorry," I chuckle. "It really wasn't that good, now let's sleep."

A few minutes pass as I let sleep embrace me slowly, I'm almost asleep when James wakes me up again.

"Kenny? Sing me to sleep?"

* * *

**As usual, extremely sorry about any mistakes or choppy story parts... I hope you liked it!**

**Please review :)**

**PS my phone has been taken away, if you text me with a request or a question, I won't be able to answer.. :0**


	14. Old Friends

**Aiwerpjowiejpaoiej two weeks again? God. I really suck. Anyways. 123 reviews! Four away from beating my last story's amount of reviews! :) Thank you all so much! **

**Thank you especially to **_**Kames Over All, SWACGleekFreak, DramaJen89, waitingFORthePERFECTsong9092 , Love and Heartz, LoveSparkle, XxxAnimaniacxxX, icanloveyoumorethanthis, jamesmaslowlover, Kimmie, DeniseDEMD, annabellex2, Hikari no Kasai and KEALY KAMES.**_

**I've been writing this term paper for the entire first month of school…kill me now. Anyways, please enjoy !**

**I'm so sorry for any spelling or grammar in this chapter, I can't really edit it much cause I'm actually going insane-too much time spent on typing documents up for both school and fanfiction... x( please forgive me, I'm so sorry!**

**Chapter 14:**

* * *

Waking up in a stream of light has never felt any more amazing.

The stream of light comes from James' ripped curtains slowly cascades down across the tip of his nose and straight down his chest, drawing a line over the arm I have wrapped loosely around his stomach.

Finally deciding not to head back to Mercedes' this morning, I roll over so that I'm lying flush on top of James, and reach down to the floor to grab my pants. I fish around in the pockets until I find my phone and toss the jeans back down on to the floor. I roll back into James' side before looking at the time—_7:19_, and find Mercedes contact before sending her a quick text:

**Mer, slept over at James' house. Don't worry about me.**

I smile to myself after the text sends, tossing the expensive phone over James' sleeping body as well—not too worried about where it lands or what happens to it. I can imagine Mercedes leaning over her white iPhone encased in its floral pink case on the island in the kitchen, waiting to hear from me or doing her daily morning Sudoku puzzles with the baby in one arm. Almost like clockwork, I hear my phone vibrating on the floor somewhere in the room, undoubtedly with her response.

_Who else would be texting me?_

I smile when James shifts his body so that he's on his side, naked stomach adjacent to mine. He exhales deeply through his nose before his eyelids twitch and slowly open—presenting the beautiful hazel eyes that I haven't seen for hours.

"Morning, Kendall," he says after a few moments of fully waking up.

"Morning," I grin, reaching an arm up to throw over his side, pulling myself closer to him. The intimacy of the moment took over my mind for a second, almost bringing my heart to a stop. The way this felt—the way _he_ felt, all too perfect.

"Ready to sing for me again?" he rubs his hand over my arm slowly.

"Funny," I hold back a snort.

"I know," he takes the hand lingering over my arm and rubs it over his face. "What time is it?"

"Almost seven-thirty," I answer. My phone buzzes again, leaving me a little confused. _Did Mercedes really need me for something? _"I should probably get that," I tell him before crawling over him and looking for my phone.

"Sure," he lays flat on his bed, putting his hands underneath his head on the pillow. I bend over when I find my phone in the pile of clothes on the floor, standing up to stretch as I unlock it. My shoulder pops as I see Mercedes' message.

**Have fun, darling. Spend as much time as you need, I'm going down to the store.**

I grin as I scroll to the next message, where the grin disappears completely and morphs into pure confusion.

**Kenny! think I saw u a mini golf course last nite—long time no see eh? here 4 a leadership conference, maybe we can grab a bite to eat sometime. let me kno! –Beau**

* * *

"So you got ditched, prom night?"

"Yeah," I sigh, sipping on a milkshake I got from Rocque café before hastily making my way into the store. Carlos looks at me in disbelief after reading the text message I received a couple hours prior.

"How did that happen?"

"He had some stupid competition thing," I roll my eyes and suck on the milkshake straw, trying to get the substance into my mouth as quick as possible.

"Sports?"

"No," I laugh. "Scholastic. It was me and him working against each other for valedictorian, yet somehow we grew to get along, and we both happen to be gay."

Carlos' jaw pops open as he shoots me a funny look.

"Yeah," I smirk. "I know."

"Is he cute?" he watches as he slides my phone back towards me across the register counter.

"Is he cute," I repeat the question with a frown, opening the pictures folder on my phone and scrolling back to the pictures I took at the end of the school year. I open a picture I remember my mother taking of us graduation day, after all of the caps were thrown in the air and the gowns were ruffled from being sat on for hours. There was Beau, with an arm secured behind and around my waist, smile bright and white. I look small and pathetic next to him—I wonder if that's what it looks like when I'm next to James.

"Jesus," Carlos' eyes almost pop out of his sockets after I hand him my phone. "And I thought _you_ were pretty good looking for a nerd."

"Hey, you're not exactly an average student yourself," I defend my nerdy title.

"I guess," he takes a closer look, zooming in on Beau's face—ruffled hair and perfect complexion. "God, he _is_ gorgeous. Almost James gorgeous," he raises an eyebrow and looks at me.

"So maybe he is," I stand up straight, shaking my milkshake around in its cup. "But I love James, it's not like Beau is an issue."

I hear my text ringtone go off in Carlos' hand. Carlos narrows his eyes at the screen before smirking and turning the screen towards me.

**Beau: I'm about to leave Rocque café, any chance you can come meet me somewhere?**

"Are you going to see him?" I close the text before Carlos takes one last look at my old friend—funny how only a month of not seeing someone makes you 'old friends', and hands me my phone back.

"Maybe," I glance at the clock above the door. It's already almost nine o'clock. "Maybe I'll just let him wait it out like I did for prom," I chuckle with a shrug.

"Hey, if you don't want him I'll take him," Carlos teases.

"You should go meet him at the café," I laugh.

"I don't know how that would fly with Dak," he pouts. "Go! You have an attractive boy waiting for you."

"Eh, I don't think I will," I stick my tongue out. Once again my phone ringtone goes off, causing me to roll my eyes.

"What'd he say this time?" Carlos sticks his head in to the situation. I smile as I read the text out loud.

"Never mind, checking back into the hotel for the night. Maybe tomorrow—text me back please!" I make a sad face at Carlos to express the little emoticon Beau included on the text.

"Aw, he really wants to meet up with you," Carlos sprawls his body out across the register in agony—he can't take the pain I'm causing him for passing up a 'cute guy'. "Kendall you're killing me."

"I'm sorry," I laugh. "I have a perfect boyfriend. Why would I risk destroying _that_? Why would _anyone_ risk destroying that?"

_I wouldn't. _

"I mean, look at this guy though, who clearly still likes you," Carlos refers to Beau, making me worry a little bit. A couple moments of silence go by before he speaks again.

"But you're right, James _is _an all around amazing person. This Beau guy is nothing to worry about too much."

"Right," I nod, getting rid of my worries.

_Right?_

* * *

"The trick is to balance it on your forehead the right way first," I instruct James as we sit across from each other on his bed. He laughs as he picks up a marshmallow from the bowl sitting in between our crossed legs.

"Are you sure about this?" he continues laughing as he tilts his head back and balances the marshmallow above his eyebrows in the center of his forehead.

"Come on, I may have had a boring childhood, but I did do this," I watch with a grin as James attempts to roll the marshmallow down from his forehead to his mouth. My phone vibrates from somewhere in the room, but I ignore it—for the four-hundredth time this evening.

"Alright," James moves his head forwards so that the marshmallow falls forward and into his hand. "What's up? You've been ignoring your phone all night," he sighs.

I reach over with a smile to brush the hair that fell forward into his eyes out of his face.

"It's fine, ignore it," I lean in over the bowl of marshmallows to kiss him lightly—before we're interrupted with another vibrate of my phone.

"I would," James pulls away with a smirk. "But it's getting a little difficult."

"Give me a second," I groan as I thrown my legs over the edge of the bed and get up. "Keep up the good work on the marshmallow-ing," I instruct him as I grab my phone from the table in the small kitchen. I roll my eyes at all fifteen text messages I've received from Beau—getting sicker and sicker of him each second. It amazes me how each text makes it seem like the last one was never delivered—like he didn't realize each time that I would ignore the next.

**Kendall! What's up? Meet me for some coffee? Text me back (: **

**On the beach w/ some lead. conf. members, u should come meet them!**

**Ok, Rocque café again, milkshakes r so addictive. Txt me back! I wna c u!**

**I'm going back 2 the hotel soon, plz come see me! Call or text mee plz!**

And those are only four of the many.

I turn off my phone this time before returning back to James on the bed, who apparently almost managed to roll a marshmallow into his mouth.

"I don't believe you," I giggle when I sit back down. "It took me years to master it, there's no way you could've done it in one night!"

"Whatever man, I don't need you to believe me. I just need to believe in myself," he winks, pulling a cheesy line out of his ass.

"Yeah yeah, okay," I pop another marshmallow into my mouth, chewing slowly and savoring the taste of the artificial treat.

"So who was texting you so much?"

"Oh no one," I lie, swallowing.

"Really," he raises an eyebrow, taking a marshmallow for himself.

"Just an old friend, actually. From school. He's apparently in town for some nerd thing—"

"You're a nerd too, you know," he butts in with a grin.

"Can I continue?" I send him a disapproving look.

"Sorry," he mouths, motioning with his hand for me to continue.

"Anyways. He's here for some nerd conference," I pause while swallowing another marshmallow. "And he wants to meet up, catch up, whatever it's called."

"So why don't you?" James doesn't see the issue here. How could he? He hasn't seen the pictures of Beau; for all James knows Beau is a scrawny little stick with a pair of Harry Potter-like glasses.

"Beau is...interesting," I sigh. "He ditched me on prom night for another nerd event." Looking back, I'm not too fond of the memory. At first it was fine, I didn't think prom would be such a big deal. But now? Now that James has essentially given me a new life? No way was missing out on prom okay.

"So he missed out, and he wants to make it up for the both of you," James takes another marshmallow and puts it on his forehead—ready to try again while I'm witnessing. He of course manages to get the marshmallow into his mouth.

"What can't you do?" I roll my eyes with a laugh. "You just take everything I do and do it better."

"I can't start food fights as well as you can," he grins, hazel eyes glowing.

"True, I was pretty fucking good for a first-time food fighter."

"Pretty good? You managed to get everyone in on it without them being prepared," he laughs, taking the bowl of marshmallows and placing it on the ground so he can stretch his legs out and lay back on his bed. He pats the open spot next to him, telling me I should probably move around to lay there with him.

"You know," James says after I crawl over into a spooning position with him. "You should probably just shoot him a text back. He's probably dying to see your gorgeous green eyes."

"I don't want to," I whine. "He makes me angry. I missed out on prom. With an attractive guy."

"Attractive," James repeats, clearly taken aback a bit.

"Oops, did I say that?" I giggle, turning around in his arms to kiss him. "You're prettier baby, don't worry."

"I'd better be."

After we settle in each others arms and James reaches to turn off the lamp next to his bed, we slowly fall into sleep's trance.

"Is he really that attractive?" James worries randomly.

"Go to sleep."

* * *

The next day is spent normally for me; James and I go our separate ways after enjoying chocolate chip waffles—courtesy of his toaster.

As soon as I get home, I grab the baby from Mercedes and play with her for a bit—for once in my life I feel free and weightless, no worries or burdens except that of Beau being around. For once everything is almost perfect.

"Kendall?" Mercedes walks into the living room a little bit before I'm planning on leaving for the store to get in my daily dose of tax returns and shipping payments.

"Hm?" I look up from my position on the floor with Kenzie, playing with her soft dolls and plush toys.

"There's someone here for you," she looks a little concerned as she pokes her head around the corner out to the entryway.

"Who?" I sit up, picking little Kenzie up with me.

"I have no clue."

Once I'm standing I slowly make my way towards the door, a little worried. Who didn't Mercedes know in this small town?

My eyes almost fall out of my sockets when I round the corner from the living room and see who's standing in the doorway. There he is, in all his glory with a pair of skinny jeans tightly wrapped around his legs, a light blue button down and a pair of boat shoes.

Beau.

"Beau," I almost choke out. "Hi."

"Hey there, do you have a second?" his eyes wander down for a second towards my chest—where I realize there's still a drooling baby in my arms.

"Oh yeah, wow, give me a second," I jump, taking Kenzie back to her spot on the floor in the living room. When I return to the entry way, Beau is shifting comfortably from one foot to another, smiling at nothing.

"Hi," I smile weakly, trying to be courteous.

"Hey," He smiles—ignoring my fake one. "I texted you a couple times, I don't know if you saw them."

Of course you don't.

"Yeah, I did, I've just been so busy with everything here," I makeup an excuse. There wasn't a time when I didn't have my phone on me, I was constantly playing a game or scrolling through my Facebook news feed to look at my 'friends' and their lives during their amazing summers.

"Same, it's been crazy!" He says with that familiar enthusiasm I didn't exactly miss. "Listen, I have to head back to the hotel for a small meeting, but are you free tonight?" he flashes me a smile similar to James', beautiful and convincing. I melt under that toothy grin, 'throwing him a bone' as my dad would say.

"Yeah, I'm free."

"Great," he nods, keeping the smile plastered on his face. "Didn't think I'd get to see you this week!"

"About that, how did you find me exactly?" I finally warm up to his bubbly attitude.

"Oh, see I stopped by in this surf store," he points over his shoulder with his thumb. "And some little latino-looking employee there asked me if I knew you! Funny right?"

I nod, biting on my bottom lip. Carlos.

"So I asked him if he'd seen you around today and he said to come here! I oughta thank him when I pass by again, don't you think?"

"I'll go myself," I smile. "Thanks for stopping." I take a step forward, hoping to push him towards the door. Instead he takes a step towards me and wraps me in a big hug, totally catching me off guard.

"I'll text you later," he smiles when he takes a step back.

"Alright," I cross my arms over my chest, watching him leave. After he closes the door I reach up and pinch the bridge of my nose, glad it's over—he's gone for the time being.

_If only a certain future roommate of mine had kept their mouth shut._

"_Carlos._"

* * *

"You should have seen Camille's face," I laugh in between spoonfuls of ice cream. "She looked like she was going to kill her."

"I just can't believe you started that food fight!" Beau finishes his ice cream and tosses the cup into a random garbage can sitting on the docks.

Despite my earlier desires to do anything but go out with Beau for a bit, I was having a lot more fun than I had initially expected. I was actually having a good time, enjoying the time spent with Beau.

"It was a scary move, but we had a blast," I chuckle, being careful to avoid mentioning James, or Eric for that matter. I wasn't about to tell Beau everything about this summer—_especially_ not that I'm in a relationship.

"God, you really have changed," Beau smiles shoving his hands in his pockets as we walk down to the end of the pier, sitting on a bench at the end.

"It's weird, isn't it? And here I thought that this summer was really going to be a drag," I sigh, leaning back against the smooth bench, watching the little bits of the waves that I can see in the dark.

"So tell me, Elon, right?" Beau watches the waves with me.

"Indeed," I nod. "You're headed out to Stanford, correct?" Of course I remembered, I was just asking to be polite.

"Yes," he smiles.

I inhale deeply. "Wow, that's a long way away, I don't know if I could do it," I lie. I could very much do it, I would love to get away from everything and everyone, start a new life. _Except with James— James could come with me, right?_

"I'm so excited, Kenny," he closes his eyes and leans back with a goofy grin. "God, just so excited for everything to start—for my life to start." I smile at him—he looks so at rest for the moment.

"I'm proud of you," I say honestly—I really am proud of him. I found out what it was like to start my life—the day I met James. It's a feeling like no other.

"Well what about you? Elon is amazing!" he opens his eyes and meets mine.

I shrug with a blush.

"I'm excited too," I chuckle. "Kind of sad everything is over, though."

"How do you figure?"

"I mean, everyone and everything I grew up with at school, at home, it's really not going to matter anymore, is it?" My smile fades as I think of all of the teachers and friends I had from elementary school all the way through high school.

"Only if you don't want them to," I feel him watching me as my eyes travel over the breaking waves again. "If you want someone to stay in your life, they can if you let them."

I can see him inching towards me on the bench slowly, but do nothing about it. I remain silent, eyes looking at the waves. Soon he's right next to me and has an arm around my shoulders, thinking nothing of it. I stay put, not moving.

"Kendall?" he gets my attention.

"What?"

"I missed seeing you everyday."

What happens next is kind of a blur—one second he's leaning in and the next his lips are on mine. The worst part is I don't react quickly, I wait to let everything sink in before I realize what I'm doing is _wrong_. I let him kiss me for a couple more seconds before I pull away.

"Beau this isn't right," I push him off gently.

"Sorry," he says.

"It's fine," I look away, avoiding his gaze.

"I should get going," he glances at the watch on his wrist. "Gotta get back to the hotel at some point."

"Me too," I sigh as I get up. "It was really nice seeing you, Beau," I'm still kind of dazed as to what just happened.

"Maybe I'll see you again this week?" It's more of a question than a suggestion.

"Yeah, maybe," I smile weakly. He nods before shoving his hands into his pocket.

"Goodnight Kendall," he turns around and walks away, leaving me at the end of an empty pier.

I watch him go before I start to walk in a different direction slowly, thinking about the night.

It was all too much fun, if only we hadn't sat down on that damn bench. Maybe if we wouldn't have gotten into such a deep conversation—maybe then he wouldn't have kissed me. Suddenly my brain almost explodes—my vision goes blurry and I can barely breathe.

_Oh fuck._

_Beau kissed me._

_I let him._

_Oh fucking fuck._

_James._

* * *

**Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.**

**Sorry ladies and gents.**

**;)**

**xx**

**Sarah**

**Review pweeeease!**


	15. Apologies

**Ugh, so last chapter may or may not have been the worst of quality writing I've done in a while, so as a peace-treaty I'm going to write you this to make up for it.**

**I know, I know, two updates in one week? INSANITY.**

**But thank you to those who reviewed in this short time :) including: LoveSparkle, icanloveyoumorethanthis, annabellex2, XxxAnimaniacxxX, Love and Heartz, DeniseDEMD, KEALY KAMES, Kimmie, RockChickwrites, Teagsiebabe85, Kames Over All. :) 3**

**I'm also giving you a James POV…just cause I owe you this.**

**Quick extra note, I think I might have mono…so the proportions of sleeping versus writing in the next week or two may be like, really bad.**

**Chapter 15:**

* * *

"Carloooooooooos," I drum one set of fingers on the steering wheel in my car, the other set of fingernails are being chewed on nervously. I look at the dark house, waiting for any sign of life—it's almost three in the morning after all. I just need someone to talk to.

"Hurry up," I mutter under my breath, a sense of relief washing over me when I see a dark figure emerge from a window on the second floor, sliding out onto the awning over the porch before hopping down to the ground level effortlessly. Carlos makes his way over to the car, sporting a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt. I lower the passenger side window, waiting for him to approach.

"What's so bad that you had to call me—"

"Get in the car," I order him, worried to death that someone would hear or see us—worried that James might hear or see us.

"Jeez okay Mr. Bossy Pants," he opens the door and slides in. "What's the—"

"Beau kissed me!" I cut him off, freaking out. Carlos' eyes widen before he grins.

"Oh my god, how was it?" he leans over towards me, wanting answers and gossip.

"No! That's not what I was saying! He kissed me!"

"I don't see what the issue—oh," Carlos pauses and looks at me, finally with the solemn expression I've been waiting for. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh! What do I do? I've been driving myself nuts for hours now and I don't know what I'm going to say to James or—"

"Wait, slow it down there cowboy. Calm yourself down for a second."

I stop myself, staring straight ahead through the windshield to breath. My eyes fill up with tears before I can stop them—and an image of a disappointed James pops into my head. Carlos doesn't stop me from pulling away from his driveway and driving down the street.

"I'm an awful person," I break down, almost honking the horn in the car when I slam my forehead down on the wheel at a stoplight a couple streets away from Carlos' house.

"You're not, just breathe for a little longer. You said _he_ kissed _you_, correct?"

The light turns green, so I step on the gas pedal lightly to keep us moving. I inhale and exhale deeply before answering, "Yeah, he did."

"How did it happen?" Carlos asks as we pull into a parking space at an empty park. I stare ahead into the darkness, cranking up the heat as the evening chill seeped through the windows.

"We were talking, about school and everything. Then he got all deep and scooted in closer to me on this fucking bench we sat on," I shake my head slowly. Carlos is listening carefully—exactly what I needed for the moment.

"And then what?" he pushes me forward, knowing I might rip my brain out from my head if I didn't get it all out in the open.

"Then he said, 'I've missed seeing you everyday, Kendall'. Then he did it, he kissed me," I exhale deeply again, the sudden need for air too great for my lungs to bear. Almost immediately after breathing out, the choked out sobs start coming out from deep within my throat and I can't stop myself.

"You didn't do it though," Carlos reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. "You didn't mean for it to happen, and your brain was way too in shock to react quickly."

I swallow heavily, nodding.

"What should I do now, Carlos?"

"You need to tell him."

* * *

**James P.O.V.:**

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Kendall gets to spend the night with an old friend, and here I am. Staring at the damn pearly white ceiling. Lonely.

My phone is laying flat on my chest, and I can't help but watch it, waiting for it to vibrate or light up. I can't help but wait for Kendall.

To pass the time I spent the night watching movies on my laptop—including the Breakfast Club. I'd never seen it, but it was one of the few movies that Kendall _had_ seen and loved. So I watched it, feeling even lonelier after doing so. After that I absent-mindedly pulled out Eric's old guitar and started belting out the chords to 'Don't You Forget About Me', the song used in the end of the movie. That's when I almost exploded of fear, I was _singing_? Singing was something that I allowed to die with Eric, something else I don't do much.

That and…_skating_.

I missed it though, so fucking much. Being able to show everyone a strong passion through a sport—an art. My eyes travel around the room after I put the guitar away, landing on a picture of Eric and I on the wall.

"Oh Eric," I breathe out to my empty room. "I think you would like Kendall," I chuckle, letting the silence around me ring out.

"He's, you know, fixing me, like in that Coldplay song. 'Fix You'? Yeah," I laugh. I'm going insane, stupidly mumbling to myself—but for some reason I feel the urge to go on, to continue.

"You loved that song. When you were in your hospital bed, couple nights before you left me," I let a couple of tears slide down my cheeks as I recall his frail body in the hospital bed. "With those damn flowers and bikes around your bed, cause Dak insisted everyone help bring your bikes to the room for you." I laugh.

"The nurses got so mad at me, course I was the only one in the room when they first saw," I smile, sitting quiet for a bit, eyes focused on Eric's big flashy smile next to my own. "But you sang Fix You to me, buddy. You sang it, even though you weren't supposed to strain your vocal chords too much. You weren't allowed to do anything really, it killed me."

"_When you try your best but you don't succeed_," I sing, smiling lightly at the slow tune. "_When you get what you want but not what you need_." I wipe the tears off of my cheeks and stop.

"He also sang the other one. Don't Think Twice, It's All Right. The other one you sang to me, I don't think he understands what it meant to me, but I think he gets the point."

"_Stuck in reverse,"_ I sing some more—getting lonely again, the connection to Eric gone.

I jerk upright at the noise of a door opening and closing quickly somewhere in the room, I relax when I see Kendall standing with a lost and confused look in his face.

"Ken—" I start but he cuts me off.

"I need to tell you something."

* * *

**Kendall POV:**

I think the worst part of owning up to something is watching the reaction of the person it affects the most.

James, however, kept a straight face the entire time.

"It was completely my fault that I didn't pull away or react faster, I get that. But I need you to understand that I don't have any feelings for this kid—nor will I ever."

He stays sitting upright against the headboard on his bed, eyes trained on mine, not leaving. His lips are pressed into a firm line—as if he were holding back things he wanted to say.

"I'm sorry. I love you, I'm so sorry," I finally finish after my rant. He remains silent for a bit, his eyes still don't leave mine.

"James, say something," I finally break down under his stare. "Anything."

"It's okay," he finally sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I mean, if you really didn't mean for it to happen, and didn't want it to—"

I nod my head feverishly, urging him to continue.

"—then I'm not worried about it, I trust you," he nods. I feel the weight of Beau fly off of my shoulders, the worries gone for now.

"I love you," I blurt out, realizing how inappropriately timed it was for me to say that.

"Good," he finally cracks a smile. A weak one, but a smile nonetheless. "I love you too, asshole."

* * *

"Elaine I'm sorry!" Mercedes is still up when I get home—it's almost four in the morning. James didn't stop me when I said I should probably get back to the house, which I completely understood. I would give him the space he needed for a bit, but come tomorrow, I would be kissing the life out of him. _I hope_.

"I've just been so busy!" she nearly shouts, but saves the baby upstairs from the loudness.

I sigh as I open the fridge, looking for a water bottle. I find one and unscrew the cap slowly, wanting to hear this conversation.

"Why? You want to know why? My husband and I are separated at the moment, I have a very small child and a step-son to take care of all at the same time!"

She makes eye contact with me and gives me the 'one-minute' hand gesture. I nod, hopping up against the counter to sit. I play with the buttons on my flannel shirt while she continues to argue about the Bash and the current singer and-or performer situation.

"I can't do this right now, Elaine. I'll talk to you soon," with that being said, Mercedes hangs up and nearly throws her phone across the kitchen.

"You're still fighting with her?" I watch as she rubs her temples—clearly she developed some kind of headache while on the phone. I can hardly blame her.

"I've been on the phone for hours, trying to organize this thing," she leans over the island counter and props her elbows there, hanging her head in between her tiny little shoulder blades.

"You'll think of something," I hop down from my position on top of the counter. "You do know it's four in the morning, yes?"

"Good lord," she groans, not moving. "Already? In a couple hours I'm going to have to get up and take care of the baby again," she sighs. "Anyways, how was that friend of yours?"

"He's good," I swallow heavily. "We had a decent time."

"How did James take you hanging out with him?"

"He was fine with it," I swallow again. _He was fine with me being kissed…_

"That's good." _Yeah…_

I nod, taking another sip of my water, nearly finishing the bottle in two gulps.

"We should get upstairs, your stepsister has been asleep for almost six hours already," she informs me, full of envy and jealousy towards a little baby.

"Sure," I make the first movement towards the staircase out in the hallway—with Mercedes close behind, turning the lights off behind the two of us.

"Goodnight, Kendall," Mercedes calls out from her room after she's done with her nightly face washing and hygienic process.

I smile from my spot in bed, in the dark. She was a funny woman, Mercedes.

"Night Mer."

* * *

"How did it go?"

Carlos pokes his head in to the office in the store—scaring the living shit out of me.

"Jesus, Carlos," my heart is shooting around rapidly in my chest. I lean back in my chair, throwing a hand over my heart.

"Don't get your undies in a bunch," Carlos takes a step into the office and leans against the doorframe.

"It went fine, he said it was fine as long as I didn't mean for it to happen," I sigh, looking at the pile of payroll papers I have to deal with.

"So you have nothing to worry about!" Carlos says cheerfully, taking a step closer and patting me on the back.

"Yeah," I rub the back of my neck. "I went home though, after apologizing."

"Last night?" Carlos leans back against the doorframe again.

"Yeah, I said I should get going, and he didn't stop me," the more I think about it, the worse it sounds.

"That doesn't mean anything—besides you were doing the right thing. You were giving him the option for space…although he's had enough of that…" he trails off, going into deep thought. "Anyways, hot-dog party again at Dak and Jett's tonight, if you want to go."

Even though it did sound like it would be fun, something in my gut willed me to opt out.

"I think I might have to pass tonight. You know, Mercedes didn't get a full night sleep last night, I should probably help her out tonight," I make up a lie. Mercedes was probably napping right now with the baby at her side. Lucky lady.

"Are you sure? James is going," he grins at me mischievously.

"I'm sure," I'm surprised he's actually going—but I think I still need to give him space until further notice.

"That's too bad, there's probably more to come, but it's only a couple more weeks until we're settling into a dorm together," Carlos looks forward, excited.

"Yeah," I trail off, my mind wasn't one hundred percent on track today for some reason. _Maybe it was the guilt of Beau kissing me setting in?_

"Anyways, there's a couple of customers I should probably get to," he turns around and heads back out to the shop floor, leaving me alone again. It's pretty scary, loneliness. It's kind of like I'm spiraling backwards to the first few weeks of summer, where I was avoiding everything and everyone.

"Oh god," I scrub my hands over my face roughly while muttering words only coherent to my own ears. "Please don't let me go back to old Kendall."

* * *

"Kendall?" I'm woken up with a shake, Mercedes peering over my limp body on top of my bed, completely clothed.

"Sorry," she smiles feebly. "Are you okay?"

I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to remember what caused me to come back home after work and head to bed so quickly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I croak out, sitting up to stretch. Mercedes pushes a couple of strands of blonde hair back over her shoulder before sitting down on the end of my bed. "Why?"

"You just," she trails off, looking down at her hands in her lap. "You just don't usually come home this early and sleep."

_Oh, right. I avoided a hot-dog party._

"Oh, yeah. I think I might be catching a cold or something," I make up another lie. Not good, I used to lie like this _all_ the time. _Another bad sign_.

Mercedes doesn't buy it.

"You're sure?" She cocks her head to the side, raising an eyebrow.

I nod, feeling pretty bitter about it.

"Yeah," I glance over at the alarm clock to my right, it's only ten-fifteen. My eyes land over on my cell-phone, sitting quietly on the wooden bed-side table. I feel Mercedes eyes following me as I reach over to grab my phone and turn on the screen. Jeez, four texts from James? I can't help but smile weakly as I look down at the screen, reading each one.

**Where are you blondie?**

**You're killing me. **

**Asdfjkl;qwertyuiopzxcvbnm answer me!**

**Okay. Carlos informed me on why you're not here. I know you better than that, Kendall. I really am not mad at you, I promise. Get your ass over here.**

"On second thought," I smile up at Mercedes. "I might head out in a few minutes."

Mercedes grins as she pats my foot on the bed.

"Have fun, Kendall."

* * *

"Kendall?" Dak opens the door with a red cup in his hand, no doubt filled with a mix of alcohols. "Great to see you buddy!" He reaches forward and grabs my wrist, pulling me into the house before closing the door. He almost falls on me from behind, awkwardly grabbing my ass for support on the stairs up to the house.

"Sorry," he giggles. "Carlos is still mad at me for doing that to him as well." His speech is totally slurred, so I don't mind.

"It's fine," I laugh a genuine laugh at his drunken behavior.

"You know the drill," he waves his arm around once we're in the room full of friends and familiar places. "Jett's on the porch with the dogs and burgers."

I kind of tune out from the drunken lecture Dak is giving me, and look around for the person here who matters the most right now. Dak pats me on the shoulder and laughs after he's done.

"Kendall?" An equally drunken Carlos comes up to me and gives me an awkward hug. It wouldn't be awkward if he didn't fall on me at the same time. "It is Kendall!" he says as soon as he straightens up, poking my cheek.

"What's up?" I absentmindedly say, still craning my neck around to look for James.

"Oh nothin," Carlos goes to move next to Dak, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "James is talking to Jett on the porch, if that's who you're looking for," he chuckles.

"Alright," I leave the two of them with a smile to head out to the porch, stopping short when I see James and Jett yelling at each other past the glass sliding door. I don't think anything of it—James said they don't usually get along. _Maybe it would help if went out there?_

I make the mistake of sliding the door open a crack so I can hear things, sliding my body through the door.

"I saw them James," Jett laughs. James looks less than enthused as they continue their argument, neither noticing me. "It didn't look like your lover-boy was against it," he sneers. I freeze, realizing exactly what they were talking about.

"He told me he had nothing to do with it, and I believe him." _Thank you James._

"Were you there? Did you see it happening?" Jett retorts. James looks down at his feet behind Jett on the grill. "Pretty boy and Kendall were basically getting it on, on that damn pier bench."

"That's not true! Kendall came and told me everything!" James' fists clench up at his side, as if he's about ready to sock one to the side of his step-brother's head.

"Then he didn't tell you the part about where he was grabbing his friend's junk—"

"What?" I burst out with a near shriek, slapping a hand over my mouth as soon as I can't take it anymore and accidently let my anger get the best of me. James and Jett both snap their heads in my direction—both reactions similar but different. James has a look of both guilt and horror on his face; Jett looks more than satisfied and happy.

"Kendall—" James moves towards me but then stops, seeing my livid expression.

"Is that what you think happened?" I hold a hand up to James, waiting for Jett's response. "Is that what you saw?" Jett nearly growls at me, like I've already ruined his master plan.

"Kendall—" James tries to jump in again, but I cut him off.

"And you! Is that what you think? Because I've been stressing for almost twenty-four hours straight about you being mad at me, and you believe _him_?" I narrow my eyes at his hazel ones, full of fear and confusion. I should probably let him off the hook, but right now I was just too pissed off to care.

"That's exactly what he believes, I'm his step-brother," Jett grins again. "I saw you and…what's his name?"

"I don't believe it," James tries reassuring me, clearly understanding how broken I'm feeling.

"You," I point at Jett with the best death glare I could create. "Are a shallow prick who will _never _learn what it's like to love."

"Kendall wait!" James shouts at me, but I'm too busy trying to get out of the small condo. He doesn't follow me right away, which stings even more than the conversation I listened to—_but I'm the one who got myself into this mess, aren't I? I deserve it._

"Kendall aren't you going to stay?" Carlos tries to stop me from leaving in the living room.

"No, Mercedes needs me right now," I lie with tears in my eyes.

"Okay," Carlos has a funny little pout on. "See you tomorrow," he almost falls over on Dak who's standing behind him, wrapping an arm around Carlos' waist.

"Kendall," James comes bounding into the living room, reaching for me. I turn on my heel as fast as possible, wanting to leave the monster who started this current issue's house.

"I'm leaving," I call over my shoulder, almost skipping down the steps with my tear-impaired vision.

"Stop," James finally catches a hold of my arm, gripping it tightly when we're outside in front of the condos.

"No," I attempt to wiggle and turn out of his hold. "Let me go!"

"If you stop squirming and listen to me for a couple of minutes."

"Fine," I huff, watching him flip the hair from his eyes after chasing me for such a long time.

"Jett's jealous of us, there's no question, he basically admitted he wanted to break us up. What you heard on the porch…I didn't believe any of it," he still has a tight grip on my arm. It was a good choice too, I was about to make a break for it if he wasn't so busy cutting off the circulation of my arm.

"You didn't listen to me," he continues. "I seriously didn't believe any of it, I know you didn't mean for it to happen."

I sigh, realizing I was definitely being way too stubborn—not listening to him.

"Kendall you know I love you," his sad tone makes me finally make eye contact with him—how could I reject those beautiful eyes with the flushed cheeks? "You weren't mean to hear any of that, I swear."

"I know I wasn't meant to dipshit," I finally let out a bittersweet chuckle. "You confuse me sometimes you know?"

He lets out a breath of relief, followed by an anxious smile.

"I know, I'm sorry, Kendall. I am, I really am."

"You shouldn't be apologizing for your step brother. And besides, I started this mess. I should have to clean it up," I shrug. He lets go of my arm, before pulling me into a warm hug.

"Let's look past this, okay?" he kisses the top of my head. I close my eyes against his chest, feeling at peace again—worries gone, but there was still that bit of guilt deep in my mind. I shouldn't have been forgiven that fast, no matter the circumstances.

He then tilts my chin upwards when I don't respond.

"Okay?" he repeats.

I nod in response.

"Alright then."

He takes a step back and holds out his hand.

"I'm James, and I'm an antisocial freak."

I tilt my head back and laugh.

"I'm Kendall. And you're _my_ antisocial freak, James."

* * *

**So I gave you some closure…. :)**

**Again I think I'm really sick, so I may or may not be able to write for you :( I'll try though, when I'm semi-awake and on the couch, watching/listening to Big Time Rush.**

**PS Is anyone else SO HAPPY that Kendall picked Jo?**

**Review :)**

**xx**

**Sarah**


	16. Glass

**Another quick update :0**

**Thank you to those who reviewed in this short week :) including: Kimmie, Love and Heartz, XxxAnimaniacxxX, icanloveyoumorethanthis, DeniseDEMD, annabellex2, RockChickwrites and Kandis-renea. :)**

**Here you all go,**

**Chapter 16:**

* * *

Part of me feels empty when I wake up this morning. Yes, I'm in bed with James, but it's weird. We had only just 'started over' last night—and quite frankly this was awkward.

Watching him sleeping though—he was still beautiful to me, and every strand of hair that fell over his eyes while we were sleeping still seemd to be perfectly placed.

My heart flutters when he finally starts to open his eyes, even if it's at an extremely slow pace.

"Hey," he mumbles.

"Hey," I put my head back down on his chest, not worried about having a conversation at the moment—the awkward feeling rushing over me again. Usually in the morning he rubs my back a little bit, and I usually do something like kiss his chest. But this morning, we both keep to ourselves.

It takes a while for the both of us to really get up and open our eyes.

"I should get going soon," I finally sigh, sitting up slowly.

"Why," he mumbles, grabbing on to my arm lightly.

_I don't know._

I stay silent for a bit, thinking about his question. _Why do I have to go? Do I really want to?_ I turn to face him with a smile.

"I guess I don't," I breathe out, weight lifting off of my chest. _Why was it there in the first place?_

"Good," he grins lazily. He sits up against the backboard of his bed and opens his legs, patting the empty spot, motioning for me to come over. I sigh before I slide into the spot, leaning my back against his naked torso.

He kisses the side of my neck from behind and exhales deeply.

"James," I interrupt.

"Hm?" he mumbles against my warm skin, giving me goose bumps.

"What are we doing," it's more of a statement than a question, the way it all comes out. He pulls away; I can tell he's thinking from behind.

"I don't know," he chuckles. "Everything's been weird the past couple of days, hasn't it?"

"Yeah," I nod, knowing he can't see my disappointed face. "It has been. Doesn't mean we can't fix it, right?" Hope grows deep inside of me.

"Right," he kisses the back of my neck. I drop my eyes to our limbs, tangled up lazily on top of the sheets. "Are you okay?" he asks after a while of me not responding to his kisses.

"I think so."

To be completely honest, I have no clue. I have no clue what's going on, or why this just doesn't feel right anymore.

But I'm determined to fix it.

* * *

"Okay, Elaine. Would you just want me to hand everything over to you? Do you want control over everything that happens at this Bash? Cause I'm close to giving up with all of your yelling," Mercedes is livid when I come back to the house at almost four in the afternoon. I spent the day walking around on the boardwalk alone after I left James' house with him when he had to get to work. I walked around, thinking about things for a bit before deciding to come home and clean up before going back to work.

That's when inspiration struck.

"Mercedes," I rush in, hearing she's on the phone with Elaine.

"Give me a second Kendall—"

"No, I'll sing at the bash for you."

Her expression falls, jaw drops.

"Seriously?" she pulls the phone away from her face, ignoring the annoying bitch on the end of the line.

"Seriously, I'll do it," I nod, swallowing heavily when I realize what I'm doing.

Mercedes beams before pulling her phone up to her ear again.

"Elaine, I've found someone to sing, you can get out of my face now, thanks." She ends the call with a smug smile, setting the phone down.

"You've been holding that one in, haven't you?" I smile nervously, hands shaking at my side.

"Yes," she pumps one hand in the air, with a victory cry. "What made you decide to do it?"

"I don't know, lately I've just been turning pages in my life," I swallow again; afraid I might throw up on her thinking about singing in front of people.

But James. James will be so proud; maybe things will go back to normal.

"Well, thank you. This is so great, you can't believe how hard I've been searching for someone, Kendall," she comes over and gives me an awkward and grateful hug.

_Well there's no coming back now._

* * *

"Kendall I've got some shipping—oh," Carlos comes into the back office of the store to find me with my left cheek flat against the desk surface—dead. To be honest, I've felt nauseous ever since agreeing to singing at the Bash for Mercedes. My eyes follow him as he slowly sets the folder down and backs away to lean against the doorframe.

"You good, man?" he asks. He looks the same as I probably do—seeing as he's the hung-over one out of the two of us.

"Yeah," I groan. "I just feel sick." That's the truth.

"Tell me about it, but didn't you leave early last night?" he asks.

"Yeah, I wasn't feeling good. Still don't." That's the half-truth.

"I see. Well—" the bells on the front door ring, and he turns his attention outside the door. "That's Dak, let me go see what he wants," he smiles.

I go back to my moping as I eavesdrop on the conversation outside the office door.

"Kickball tonight," Dak announces to the store employees—all except for me. "Everyone is invited—including you Kendall!" he shouts the last part extra loud for me to hear—not knowing I could already hear him.

"Kickball?" Logan asks from somewhere in the store. "Who thought of it?"

"Who do you _think_?"

"No way," Camille squeals. "Really? We haven't done this since…"

That's how I figure out they're talking about James.

"Yeah, drawing for second base is at eight-thirty sharp," Dak instructs everyone. "Don't be late unless you wanna be soaked! You've all got half an hour!"

_Soaked? _

"No way! I'm not getting it this time," Carlos whines. "Last time I was miserable out there in the water!"

_In the water?_

"So don't be late and you probably won't get picked," Dak retorts. "Just come play, don't worry about it."

There was a silence, before the bells on the door rang again and Camille's voice erupted from the silence.

"Can I help you find anything?"

Carlos makes his way back to the office after that, clearly Dak left at the first sign of a customer.

"Did you hear all of that?" he grins at me.

"Yeah," I still haven't moved from my dead position on the desk. "Kickball?"

"_Beach _Kickball."

"Sorry. Beach Kickball," I correct myself.

"Yeah, so if you're coming you might wanna hurry up because second base is the absolute worst, you have to stand in the ocean for hours and try to get people out."

"It all sounds like so much fun…" I groan as my stomach lurches around—still thinking about my stage fright. "But I don't know if I'm feeling up to it."

"Yeah, I guess. You should at least come watch, you're not going to see anything like it ever again, I can tell you that," he raises an eyebrow. I slowly sit up and nod, wanting to be alone.

"Maybe I'll just come watch," I offer a fake smile, trying to get my mind off of singing.

"Yeah, well, if you don't mind I'm going to get a head start. Last time I got stuck with second base and it sucked major dick. Could you take care of locking up and everything?"

"Sure," I nod; lifting a hand up shakily to take the set of keys Carlos has in his pockets.

"Make sure you turn off the back lights too, Mercedes is on her eco-friendly kick," he calls over his shoulder. I look down at the keys in my hand and sigh, before falling forward and resting my forehead on the edge of the desk, feeling a little less sick as I close my hand tightly around the jagged edge of the keys.

For the next half hour I walked around the store, I even helped a single late-night customer who needed help after both Logan and Camille left after Carlos. Who knew I could absorb such Surf-Shop knowledge in just a few short weeks? Once the customer left I had nothing to do, and my mind was racing back to singing at the Bash. The nausea is coming back full force as I turn off the office lights and lock the door, followed by the rest of the lights in the store and then locking the front door.

I found myself walking around the stores to the boardwalk, searching for the friends I knew would be playing kickball down on the beach. I wasn't planning on even watching, like Carlos said. But I'd at least walk by and check it out. Tonight I was feeling just way too disconnected, nothing would make it better.

Except maybe talking to James, and telling him how I volunteered myself to sing at the Bash—he would be so proud of me. Or maybe not, maybe he'd just shrug it off.

The nausea subsides for a bit as I turn to walk onto the beach only to be stopped by a familiar voice.

"Kendall?"

I turn around slowly, not sure what to expect, hoping to god it wasn't the same voice I had been talking with two nights ago.

Turns out it was exactly what I expected. Beau was standing on the boardwalk, jacket draped over his shoulders lightly in a purple polo shirt.

"Hey," I sigh as I listen to cheers from my friends on the beach—someone had kicked a home run out into the water apparently.

"What's up?" he took a step closer cautiously, he understood he was stepping on a thin sheet of glass—at any moment it could shatter with me on top of it.

"Oh, you know, just walking home I think," I lie. Another cheer erupts from the beach, as well as a '_Go Logan!_' from a recognizable Camille.

"Kickball," he snorts, making fun of them. "How childish." That kind of angers me, I was really considering going down there to be with everyone only moments ago.

"Beach Kickball," I mutter under my breath—hoping he didn't hear me.

"What was that?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing," I offer him a fake smile while shoving my hands into my jean pockets. "I should really get going—" I start to turn on my heels but he stops me again.

"Wait, Kendall," he reaches out and grabs my arm. "About the other night—"

"Don't," the nausea starts to kick up again, and I have to take deep breaths in and out before continuing. "Beau the other night was a mistake, I'm sorry. I should have told you. I have a boyfriend now, I think. It's not really clear, we kind of got in a fight and started over last night…anyways," I pause to breath. "It was my fault the other night, I shouldn't have kept James from you."

I close my eyes tight, waiting for a slap or a scolding or disappointing look or something, but when I open my eyes Beau is almost laughing.

"Calm down, Kendall. I was just going to apologize to you for what happened," he chuckled.

"Oh," I huffed, crossing my arms.

Another cheer for Carlos on the beach.

"God they look stupid," Beau laughs, turning his attention to everyone running around in the darkness—a small ball somewhat visible flying in the air every once in a while.

"I guess it could be sort of fun," I say matter-of-factly, not caring what Beau thought anymore.

"Really," Beau is taken aback, as if the changes I've undergone were in the blink of an eye.

"Yeah, really. Did you ever get to do any of that stuff when you were younger either?" I smile like a small child.

"No," he crosses his arms over his chest. "I didn't. But I didn't want to either; games were a waste of time. And look where that brought the two of us."

His words hit me like a bitch slap. _Look where that brought the two of us._

_I'm not supposed to be here._

"Everything happens for a reason," I mumble, any confident or good mood I had left in me completely gone.

"I'm sorry?" he takes a step closer as I shake my head at his question. "Whatever. Listen, I'm leaving tomorrow. Maybe we can get together during breaks and stuff back at home. Just call me when you're around Kendall—"

"Stop. Just stop. I'm not interested," I look down at my feet. "I'm sorry."

"As friends, Kendall. I was going to say as friends. I understand you have a boyfriend," he chuckles, acknowledging the fact that I'm going insane.

"Okay," I sigh, giving in. "I will. I'll see you soon, then, Beau."

"Goodbye hug?" Beau opens his arms up with a corny smile, waiting for me to accept it.

"Fine," I laugh, taking a step forward and giving him a hug. We say our goodbyes and he's soon gone. I sigh before I turn back to the boardwalk, only to face James, followed by the rest of the group. They're all soaking wet, and James has a red kickball tucked under his arm—illuminated by the streetlights that lined the boardwalk above our heads.

"I'll see you later, James," Dak called over his shoulder as he led Carlos away—his arm draped over Carlos' shoulder. Logan took Camille's hand and led her away as well, giving me a small wave. All of the others disappeared until it was just James and I left alone on the boardwalk.

"You missed out," James bounced the ball on the ground and palmed it when it came back up, so he was holding it above the ground like there was no gravity left on earth.

"Kickball's not really my thing," I shift uncomfortably, crossing my arms over my chest. Why did this feel so awkward? "But how was the game?"

"Good." _Bounce._ "My team won." _Bounce._

"That's good," I shifted my weight from one foot to another again, trying to find something to say to make everything less awkward. Maybe starting over wasn't going to do anything, maybe our trust was really broken with Beau and Jett interfering.

"So what happened?" he asked finally.

"What do you—"

"I mean, what happened. Why didn't you come?" He bounces the ball again, waiting for my answer, whether I had one or not.

"Carlos asked me to close up and I was behind on payroll—" _Lies_.

"But you were just talking to Beau," _Bounce_. "Am I right?" _Bounce_.

"Yeah," I nod. "That was Beau."_ Had he really seen me talking to him?_

"Kendall what's wrong? You're really just not acting like…_yourself_," James sighed, staring me down with those hazel eyes. He really was gorgeous, I had to give him that, which made me feel all the more guilty about being such a heartless bastard at the moment. To be honest, I didn't know why I was acting this way either.

But then again, James really didn't know me before I came here—maybe this was the real me. Maybe no matter how much I tried to change, I just couldn't do it, and here I am. Back to the old me. Just like I feared.

"I'm fine," I almost tear up—_what the fuck is wrong with all the crying lately?_

"No, you're really not. If this is about Mercedes and your father—" he takes a step forward and reaches for my arm but I step back and avoid it.

"It's not!" I almost shout. _Why am I getting so cagey?_

"Then what is it?"

"I was behind on some work, is that so hard to believe?"

The glass sheet I was standing on before when Beau approached me earlier was even thinner now; more than paper thin at this point. It's cracking; I can feel the tension hitting at it from underneath, begging me to crack and fall. The only thing holding me up was a lie—the fake answer to the question of 'what's wrong, Kendall?'

The worst part was he didn't believe me with the first lie, if I kept using the same lie why would he believe me now?

"Kendall please just talk to me," his expression was unreadable, but I could see in his eyes that he was disappointed, and maybe somewhat angry.

"I told you. I had to work, James," the glass is cracking quickly now, the lie holding me up slowly slipping from my grasp. _Good job, dipshit. _"I have a lot on my plate right now. I can't just spend my time playing kickball on the beach or arguing with your dumbass stepbrother. I've been slacking off so much this summer and I need to focus on school soon…"

He remains silent after I finish, staring me down with a pair of disappointed eyes.

"Slacking off…" he finally says, bouncing the ball calmly.

"Yeah, I need to get serious soon," I nod, shoving my hands in my pocket. Down the boardwalk I hear laughter and jeering from our friends, having their good times away from us. We look back at each other, eyes meeting one another.

He nods after a while.

"Well have fun Kendall, getting serious and all," there's something in his tone that scares me—it's final, and far away. That's when the lie slips out of my grasp, and I'm standing alone on broken glass, almost ready to fall through. "I really love you and all, but if this is what you want, I'll just see you around I guess."

His hazel eyes drop, and he starts to walk away.

"James, wait," I grab his arm to stop him. "I just…"

When he stops and looks back at me I have nothing to say, something so pathetic I wish I could really feel my insides twisting and ripping themselves open—I deserve it.

"I'm sorry."

_I'm sorry._ That's all I have to say.

But it was so much easier than having to explain everything—now I can see why my dad says it to everyone all the time.

"It's just…" I try to continue, feeling so disgusted and humiliated with myself. I was expecting him to finish the sentence for me for whatever reason, to maybe help me out. But he never did. Instead, I loosened my grasp and watched him walk away, and I finally let myself fall through the shattered glass underneath me.

What did he care if the sentence was finished or not?

He's finished.

And that's all that matters.

* * *

**Don't kill me again! Please review :)**

**xx**

**Sarah**


	17. To Feel a Little Love

**Wow, flooded with reviews! A dream come true! Even if they were all upset with me…hehehe. :) Hopefully soon you guys won't hate me anymore.**

**Also, Hurricane Sandy hit my area—hard. So I haven't had power... We have been for a week now; I think I'm going to die…. Sad life, right? I'm sitting in the basement of a church for this internet access...so..that should say something.**

**Anyways. Thank you all for the reviews! I usually thank you all individually-hopefully I PMed everyone with a thank you! I just don't know how much longer I have for this internet opportunity...so I'm trying to edit this as quickly as possible! Just know I love you all and I'll get back to my normal routine when I have power back!**

**So this chapter may be a little confusing, I'm going to fast forward a little bit to ease everybody's pain. **

**Chapter 17:**

* * *

Numb.

Sometimes you just feel numb. Numb, as in, you can't feel anything.

Just, numb.

That's how it felt after James completely vanished from my view, the kickball he had in his hands bouncing on the boardwalk and everything. Gone.

That's when I started to realize that I had made a huge fucking mistake, I had let the old Kendall take over my mind for too long—even if it was only for a matter of minutes.

The worst part was, the old Kendall was still with me, I could really tell.

Cause I didn't cry. I didn't move. I didn't _feel_. I just stood there.

Numb.

"K-Kendall?" a voice squeaks from behind me. I shake my head, like the voice isn't real. "Kendall," the voice presses on. I just shake my head again, staring straight ahead where James stood only minutes ago.

"Kendall," one last time, before a warm hand is firmly grasping my wrist, pulling me back to reality. I slowly turn my head to see Carlos, who is looking back at me with great concern. "Are you okay?" he asks, wearily.

"I'm fine."

_Liar._

"Are you sure?" he raises an eyebrow, still holding on to my wrist.

"Yeah, Carlos I'm fine."

_Liar._

"I don't know you just looked a little—"

"Carlos, trust me. I'm fine."

_Pants on fire._

He doesn't believe me, I can tell. But he lets my wrist go with a sigh, and slowly takes a couple steps backwards. His eyes stay fixed on mine—he's looking for some form of emotion, but I won't let myself show any, or at least the old Kendall won't.

"I'm going to go home," I break the stare, looking down at my feet against the sandy boardwalk.

"Kendall you don't have to—"

"I'll see you around," I ignore whatever he has to say, and walk away as quickly as possible.

By the time I get back to the house, the nausea is coming back at full force, with a side of dizziness. I stop to breathe a couple times, grasping on to anything that could possibly hold me up. As I flop onto my bed, an actual groan leaves my throat as I clutch on to my stomach in a fetal position.

Now, it's not only my fear of singing in front of hundreds of people that makes my head spin and my stomach flip, but it's also the fact that James won't be in my life anymore.

He's gone.

* * *

Days go by and the preparations for the Bash move into full swing—with Mercedes running around the house and giving me full baby responsibilities on some nights. Neither of us have the time to speak about my father, who calls multiple times a day to check in on us, to 'make sure we're okay.' Mercedes only shakes her head and laughs when I tell her about his pathetic calls.

"It's only a matter of time before he realizes that he needs me, Kendall, the men always come crawling back," she laughs as she chops a bunch of vegetables up one night when she made us a salad for dinner.

The days go by, and everything seems to be relatively okay for everyone _around_ me. The anxiety of singing in front of everybody in only a short week and the loss of James sink in almost at an exponential rate, making everything that much crazier for only _me_.

I still go to work at the store, help out with the baby at home, talk to my mother on the phone and listen to her latest and greatest teaching theories for her classes in the fall like life is normal but of course: nothing is normal.

Some of the nights I go to get coffee at Gustavo's, part of me hoping that James might show up one night and we can go back to our quest-completing selves. However, not once does James come in while I'm there at least, not once do I get to tell him I'm sorry. Gustavo thankfully minds his own business and doesn't ask anything about James and why he's not with me, just lets everything go as I eat his pie and drink as much coffee as possible to fuel me through the _long and lonely_ nights.

And boy, are these nights long and lonely.

When I'm not at Gustavo's or sitting on the beach in the dark where James and I had one of our dates, I'm sitting in my room after a long hot shower thinking about how much I've fucked everything up.

I don't give any thought to the Bash after a while, which is looming closer and closer every second, I haven't even thought about which song I should sing. My thoughts are all about a certain tall brunette with beautiful hazel eyes—the only ever person outside of my family who'd actually attempted to help me, understand me. But all of these thoughts go to hell as I try to move on, try to stop the painful thoughts from seeping into my brain and replaying every perfect moment I had with him.

The only other person who I talk to besides Mercedes and my mother is Carlos, who informs me about how James is doing—which doesn't exactly help me in any way. It only makes me feel worse to hear that James is "coming to the parties now and actually doing things again, except…he's not exactly talkative or anything. Don't worry, he doesn't talk to any of the guys who flirt with him."

One of the nights I show up at the jump park because I have 'nothing better to do than watch a bunch of idiots hurting themselves on their bikes and skateboards.' Or at least that's what I told Logan and Camille after Carlos left the shop that night.

Sometimes I see Carlos riding bikes, as well as Jett and Dak and some others from their shop. But one night, it's James skating. The bleachers aren't completely full that night, but everyone on them is focused right on him. He throws tricks harder than anything I've ever seen or heard of—doing them so gracefully and perfectly it's unbelievable that one person could do something so amazing.

But everybody knows James can do it—so it doesn't seem to come as much of a surprise. When he's finished and comes towards the parking lot, skateboard in hand; I hide behind a car to avoid him seeing me. He looks sort of different—if that's possible. His walk is sort of slumped, he looks worn out and tired; lonely. When he pulls his car out of the parking lot and there's no chance of him seeing me, I finally leave my hiding spot and sigh. For the rest of the night at home all I can do is my best not to think about James moving on.

For the most part when Carlos talks about him, I only nod and pretend to be okay with everything he says. At this point I'm barely able to hide all of the hurting my heart is doing in my chest with every bit of information.

It's all too much, and one day, I finally crack.

"But what about you?" Carlos asks on a rainy day in the store later, exactly two weeks since I last talked to James.

"Hm?" I look up at him from my paperwork, watching him play with the zipper on his purple hoodie.

"How are you doing, now?" I know he's asking about James, but I try to avoid the question.

"Who me? I'm fine," I lie, punching some numbers into the small calculator on the desk.

"No, Kendall. You're not. I'm one of the few people who knew what was going on with you and James, but I'm not the only one who's noticed it," he gives me an unconvinced look when I look back at him over my shoulder.

"Trust me," I sigh, looking back at the work in front of me blankly, unable to get back into it.

"Should I? Because Mercedes even called yesterday and asked if I knew if anything was up with you—_people notice_ Kendall," he's not giving up the fight, and he won't. I can tell. This kind of Carlos is pushy—but not the bad kind of pushy, I'll give him that.

I can feel his glare sitting on my back, waiting, poking, taunting. Seeing as he really is my only friend at the moment, I turn around to face him and spill everything uncontrollably.

"I miss him, Carlos. I do. Every time I see a brunette on the boardwalk or anywhere, I hope to god it's James, just so I can see his beautiful face. Every time you tell me something about him, my insides scream and I try my hardest not to cry thinking he's happy without me—he's fine with moving on."

Carlos sits silently and patiently, waiting for me to continue—thankfully he understands there's a whole lot more to it.

"It kills me to know that he even can move on, cause I sure as fuck can't. Every time I think about something I get upset cause it reminds of him, and then when I think of him I get even more upset. I'm going crazy. But this time it's not good—the last time I thought I was going crazy I was just falling in _love_. But not this time. I'm just dying of heartbreak and my brain can't handle it."

"Kendall—"

"Just wait, one more second. It's been two weeks. After you and Jett were finished I'm pretty sure it wasn't this long! Two weeks. But nothing is getting better. Absolutely _nothing_," I'm shaking by the time I'm done, and I'm half expecting Carlos to break out in laughter. Instead of looking at him to study his expression, I look down at my shoes.

"Kendall," Carlos raises an eyebrow.

"What?"

"First of all," he stands up and puts a hand on my shoulder. "My post-break up with Jett trauma lasted for more than a month," he chuckles and lifts my chin up with a finger, taking my sight away from the floor and my shoes.

"Second," he pulls me in for a hug—completely unexpected. When he pulls away, he takes his steps to leave the office, but turns when he reaches the doorway.

"He's so not over you."

* * *

"Kendall! The door!" Mercedes sings up the stairs to me—that's a new habit. Lately she's been cheery; maybe the fact that she's basically done with all of the planning for the Bash has gotten her that way.

"Coming," I grin when I get to the bottom of the stairs and see her dancing around with the baby in her arms, decked out in a pink dress, a pair of wedges and an apron wrapped around her tiny waist. "Smells amazing down here," I tell her, knowing she'd spent all day working on the dinner for tonight. She grins at me before continuing to twirl around in those wedges of hers.

When I make it to the door I see a familiar face peering in through the windows next to the door, impatiently waiting for an answer.

"Hey Kev," I smile when I open the door to my brother and his fiancée, Laura.

"Here it is," Kevin lifts a guitar case in front of him to show me. "I didn't even break it this time," he smiles. Laura stepped in to the house in front of him.

"That was after I made him put the seatbelt over it," she gives a genuine smile and a quick hug—which was extremely weird.

"Well she's changed," I frown, a little worried. I wait until she disappears into the kitchen to ask, "What did you do to her?"

"No one can resist the Knight charm, you should know that baby brother," he laughs, giving me a nudge in the arm with his elbow, before handing me the guitar case. I ignore his last statement and take the case from him, nerves flying and nausea threatening to kick in when I hold the case tight in my arms.

I'd asked Kevin to bring me my guitar from home while he was still there with Laura—just for the Bash.

"Where's daddy-o?" Kevin asks.

"He left for a business trip," I lie, not wanting to go into details. He nods and then pushes past me and towards the kitchen as I stand frozen in the entryway, staring at the guitar case. I run my fingers gently over the clips holding the case shut, wondering how many years it had already been since I last opened this thing.

"Mer! You look gorgeous!" I hear Kevin nearly shout upon his arrival in the kitchen, followed by a bunch of laughter.

I snake my way around the kitchen and up to my room to set the case down on my bed, before taking a good look at it. I breathe deeply in and out for at least three minutes to calm my nerves and get rid of the sick feeling I have in my stomach, all because of a stupid guitar, and a stupid performance I had to give.

If this is what's going to happen for the next few days, I'm going to need some help. I finally came to sitting down on the bed and slowly opening the case—being extremely cautious.

A sharp intake of breath follows my eyes landing on the old guitar. My mind flashes back to the Christmas I got it, I had been so happy and excited. Now I was filled to the brim with dread, holding the instrument again. Thinking about playing it front of people was just another thought that filled me with disgust and fear.

I'd never been one for stage fright, but singing and playing the guitar was such a forbidden feeling—one I thought I'd never have to deal with again if I could help it.

_But James._

James couldn't help it; he wanted to hear me sing. He wanted to hear me play—and I let go. I gave in, which was now proving to be an issue.

But I couldn't blame this on James, it was all my fault. I was the one who agreed to playing, and singing—_for him. _I agreed to singing at the Bash, _for him_.

It was my entire fault.

I settle the guitar into my cross-legged lap and sigh, before reaching over and tuning the strings. Once everything sounded about right, I started strumming some chords, tunes, and songs—humming along with myself. It all seemed so effortless, getting back into it and actually enjoying it—but it felt so wrong, so illegal. And when something feels that way, generally someone with a normal functioning mindset would stop. But I don't. I keep going, playing those songs I used to spend all night teaching myself.

"Kendall?"

I jump at the sound of Laura poking her head into my room, with a small smile on her lips. I look at her for a moment, wondering what she could possibly want from me at the moment. At first she opens her mouth, as if she's going to say something important, but then she shuts it. Then the smile—which is actually quite beautiful when she shows it, comes back and she says, "Dinner's ready."

I nod, before looking down at the guitar and sighing again. She watches as I give the guitar one last look before putting it away and walking over to the door. She holds it open for me, and we walk downstairs together.

"You know," she whispers before we enter the kitchen. "For someone who refuses to play and sing, especially in front of people, you're really good."

* * *

You'll never guess where I am right now.

"Carlos," I groan, pushing through crowds of drunken teenagers, all crowded around a poorly lit bonfire.

Yep, you guessed it. The Tip.

After Laura told me I'm a good singer before we had dinner, I realized I had to start practicing in front of people to get over the weird and guilty feeling. And I knew exactly who to ask for help.

"Where are you," I mutter under my breathe, ignoring a dirty look from Jett only a few feet away.

"Logan, come back!" a seemingly wasted girl shouts from somewhere in the vicinity, so my head cranes around to look for Logan's familiar face. Where there's a Logan, there's a Carlos that can be found.

"Hey," a girl with huge boobs and totally bleached blonde hair comes on to me out of nowhere, "I'm drunk, you're good-looking, let's go somewhere no one can see us," she hiccups, giving me these funny-looking puppy dog eyes.

"No thanks," I try to move around her, feeling quite bad for the pathetic girl. "I need to find someone."

"Who? Is it your girlfriend? I bet I can give better head than her," she teases, moving forward and rubbing her hand slowly down my arm.

"No thanks, excuse me I have to—" she ignores me as she continues to touch every part of my body that she can reach while I try to worm out of her advances.

"Kendall!"

_Thank god._

"Carlos, I—" I start as the blonde girl looks between me and Carlos, who has an outraged expression on his face.

"I've been looking for you all night, Kendall. And I find you with _her_? What kind of boyfriend are _you_?" My eyes nearly bulge out of my head, same with the blonde girl.

"Oh my god," the blonde girl takes a step away from me, looking me up and down. "You're gay? I didn't—"

"That's right," Carlos walks over and grabs my arm rather harshly, giving the girl a death glare.

To say I'm confused would be a _huge_ understatement.

"He's all mine," Carlos grins at the girl before she nearly runs away and disappears into a group of other drunken girls.

"Carlos what the fuck was—"

"Are you okay? I thought I was going to have to kiss you to get her to back off," he lets go of my arm.

"What the fuck was that?" I finally finish my crazed question.

"_That_ was Lana," he rolls his eyes. "She's a psycho bitch when she's sober, extremely horny when she's drunk."

"And you had to be my boyfriend, why?"

"Oh trust me, she would have found a way to have sex with you if I didn't. You're welcome," he crosses his arms over his chest. "So what are you doing here?"

"Actually…is there somewhere we can talk?" I ask, hoping he doesn't want to be here anymore than I do right now.

"Follow me," Carlos nods.

* * *

"I don't get it," Carlos quirks an eyebrow, confused. "You want me to help you do what?"

"I just need you to watch me perform a song—you know, practice for the Bash," I pace in front of Carlos, who is sitting on an empty bench on the boardwalk. "I haven't sung in a really long time—not in front of anybody either. I need to get over this feeling I get whenever I do, or else I might pass out in front of everybody."

"So like, stage fright?" Carlos leans forward, interested.

"Sorta."

"So why'd you volunteer to do it? You're sure it's stage fright?"

"I have to. And it's not really—whatever just…will you help me?" I'm not going to bother going into the back-story and all of the unnecessary details.

"Sure," Carlos shrugs. "But will you please tell me why you think you have to perform at the Bash?"

"Because," I sigh. "It's complicated."

"Does it have anything to do with James?"

"Maybe? I haven't really figured it out. But maybe he'll forgive me when he sees me singing…maybe he'll be proud."

Carlos stands up with a grin and pats me on the shoulder. "He will definitely be proud of you. Have you seen him lately? Nothing can cheer him up anymore, this will."

At this I bite my lip—_yes I have seen him. From behind a car. _

"So do you want to start now?" he asks, seeming to be up to the challenge. Seeing him grinning like that twists my stomach in knots, this is going to be hard.

* * *

"Excuse the mess, Carlos," Mercedes yawns when she shows us through the house, pushing aside baby toys and blankets. "If Kendall had told me he was bringing you over—"

"It's fine, Mer. You look great, by the way," he smiles at her. She's still in her hostess outfit from earlier—the pink dress with the wedges. There's some wet splotches on her stomach, probably from doing the dishes all night after the large meal we had with Kevin and Laura.

"Oh thank you! This is why he's my highest-paid employee," she mock-whispers to me, with a wink.

"You're crazy," Carlos jokes with her as he follows me upstairs into my room. The nerves and butterflies in my stomach get worse when I see the guitar case where I left it.

"Well, it's not much," Carlos pokes around the room with a chuckle. "But it's very…you!"

"Thanks?" I shed my jacket and toss it on the chair by the window—Carlos does the same.

"Wait," he interrupts as I go to move the guitar case so we can sit on my bed.

"What?" I stop.

"This isn't a proper performing venue—we need something more realistic."

"Carlos—" I groan, not sure what he's getting at.

"No, stop. I know someone who can help _me_, help _you_," he winks, not registering any protests I might have had against him calling people. He whipped out his phone and dials a number, before examining the small picture frame with James and I in it by my bed.

"Hey, it's me," someone finally answers on the other end of the line. "This might sound strange," he looks at me quickly before looking back at the picture frame.

"Could I borrow the pickup?"

* * *

"Carlos…This is really weird," I complain when we meet Dak at the jump park. Thankfully it's empty, considering it's nearly one in the morning.

"Hey guys," Dak walks over with a goofy grin.

"Thanks for coming," Carlos gives him a quick hug and a smile, before turning to me. "Kendall here needs our help," he points at me.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" I ignore the explanations, shivering in the chilly air.

"Nope, but it's worth a shot. Come on," Carlos leads Dak and I back to the recognizable pickup truck that by day, the un-named bike shop uses for driving bikes and boards all over the town, and at night is used for transporting kegs of beer from a liquor store to the Tip.

"Alright Kenny," Carlos opens the door to the bed, and jumps on top. "You're gonna stand up here and sing a song for us—so you get used to the feeling of being on a stage in front of people."

Dak snorts from behind the two of us. "Two people, Litos. Two people."

"Shut up, Dak. Alright, come on up Kendall." Carlos holds his hands out for the guitar as I hop on to the truck bed.

"Alright," he hands me the guitar after I'm situated and jumps back down on to the ground. "I'll go get the coffees," he starts to make a break for my car a couple hundred feet away.

"So have you guys gone on a date yet?" I laugh as I sling the strap over my shoulder to hold the guitar up, watching Dak pathetically watch Carlos longingly.

"What?" he looks up in shock. "No, Carlos and I—we're not…" he gives up, and looks at his feet.

"You expect me to believe you drove over to help _me_ at one in the morning just because we're friends?" I raise an eyebrow and lean against the cab of the truck behind me.

"I…No, I guess not," he chuckles and reaches a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. "I don't think he likes me back."

"Are you crazy?" I have to stop myself from laughing at poor Dak. "He basically melts whenever you come to the store and talk to him. Can't you see that?"

"No?" he truly is as clueless as he seems.

"Dak, trust me. If you just asked him out—"

"Here you go," Carlos returns with the tray of coffees, holding one out for Dak.

"Mm," Dak smiles after he takes a sip. "My favorite, how'd you remember?"

"I have my ways," Carlos winks at him—almost making me gag at how cute they really were when they wanted to be.

_Dak is such an idiot._

"Guys?" I wave my hands around. "I'm sorry, I'm the only one who doesn't sleep here…so if we could just get this done you guys can go home."

"Right," Carlos clears his throats and turns his full attention to me, nodding. "Play us something."

"Any suggestions?" I ask as I look down at the guitar I'm holding.

"How about..." Dak ponders, thinking of a song. "Ed Sheeran? Drunk?"

Carlos chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Lucky for you I know that song," I nod. I clear my throat as Carlos and Dak go quiet from their spot on the ground. I strum out a couple chords, figuring out what works for the song before finding a steady groove and rhythm. I lose myself in the song for a while and sing as best as I possibly can—even if it only is for two people. When I get to the chorus it feels like I'm flying.

"_But our house gets cold when you, cut the heating. Without you to hold, I'll be freezing. Can't rely on my heart to beat it. Cause you take part of it every evening…"_

My mind can't help but flicker to James while I'm singing—this song just sadly fits into my life at the moment.

"_Take words out of my mouth just from breathing. Replace with phrases like when you're leaving me. Should I, should I?"_ James' eyes suddenly invade my vision, and are all I can see. I start choking on the lyrics of the song, and I have to stop myself to regain composure. My vision returns after a couple seconds, and Carlos and Dak are still in front of me. Carlos nods, urging me on.

"Keep going," Dak cups his hands around his mouth while he speaks—as if it were to amplify his soft whispers. I smile at my two audience members and move on.

"_Maybe I'll get drunk again,"_ I almost laugh at that line while getting back into the rhythm. _"I'll be drunk again, I'll be drunk again. To feel a little love…I wanna hold your heart in both hands."_ I see James' eyes again on mine, but my vision doesn't blur and I don't choke up again.

"_I'll watch it fizzle at the bottom of a Coke can, and I've got no plans for the weekend. So shall we speak then, keep it between friends?" _

I play out the rest of the song easily, knots in my stomach completely forgotten and the whirring thoughts hurting my head are all gone.

"_I'll be drunk again…To feel a little love."_

When I realize that the song is over, I smile and breathe out heavily in relief. I can finally sit down on the bed of the truck while putting my guitar safely to the side.

"Well?" I ask. Carlos and Dak are standing there with huge smiles on their faces, a funny sight to see.

"Kendall, you're amazing," Dak praises. "No wonder James was humming some Bob Dylan song a couple weeks ago—you got it stuck in his head forever," he chuckles.

I thank him with a sad smile—thinking about the one person that makes me choke up right now.

"Carlos?" I ask, his approval more important than Dak's at the moment. Carlos takes a moment before speaking, with the large smile still in place. "What do you think?" I press him on.

"There's no way James won't take you back."

* * *

**Well I hope you liked it, this chapter wasn't exactly the most interesting…**

**I gave you a taste of jealous Kenlos though ;)**

**Xx**

**Sarah**


	18. Back on the Bike

**Lucky for you while I was waiting for an Internet opportunity to post the last chapter, I was writing another... ;)**

**Got my power back though.**

**Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter, I realize it was wayyyyy overdue...A special thanks to: XxxAnimaniacxxX, Teagsiebabe85, waitingFORthePERFECTsong9092 , Sassy Kames (loving the new username, love xD) Puggabo27, annabellex2 and DeniseDEMD.**

**Warning: Parental Confrontation(we all know how those get) may occur in this chapter.**

**Chapter 18:**

* * *

"Kendall! Kendall wake up!" Someone is bouncing on my bed_. I should probably wake up._

"Kendall! Don't make us tickle you." _Yup, I'll get up._

"I'm up I'm up," I manage to mumble out, thankfully I go untickled and the bed bouncing stops.

"Open your eyes then," Kevin insists as I open my eyes and shoot him a glare as quickly as I can. He's standing on top of my bed, with Kenzie in his arms. _How safe._

"What, Kevin?" I roll over and nestle back into the pillow. "What time is it even?"

"Time for Kenzie to sit on you," Kevin chuckles. I groan before feeling a warm, soft baby sitting on my back.

"Hey Kenz," I mumble into the pillow, wishing I could go back to sleep. Soon I feel her being lifted off of my back, followed by a large thud next to me. I roll over again to see Kevin sitting next to me with the baby still in his arms, a big grin on his face.

"What do you want?" I snap, tired out of my mind.

"Oh, nothing. Laura and Mercedes are trying to figure out a theme for this Bash thing, so I wanted to come up here and spend some quality time with the siblings!" he leans down and gives Kenzie a kiss on the forehead. She's being particularly quiet today—which is weird, especially because my_ brother_ is holding her.

"Can we do this later? I had a late night…" I bury my face back into my pillow.

"Nope. We're going to go visit pops at the hotel with Kenzie, you liar. You said he went on a business trip!"

"Yeah, well. I wasn't exactly in the mood to tell you our dad bailed on yet another wife," I sigh as I throw the covers off of my body and get up to get dressed.

"Hey, he hasn't bailed _yet_."

"He hasn't been home in weeks, Kev. What is that called? Even when he was in the middle of a divorce with mom he didn't do that."

"Well _I _don't think he's going to leave Mercedes," he smiles down at Kenzie. "And who could leave _this_ adorable face?" he wiggles a finger over Kenzie's chest and tickles her lightly—earning a giggle out of the baby. "Speaking of relationships—"

I freeze, knowing exactly what's coming.

"How's that friend of yours…what was his name—Oh!" he snaps his fingers. "James! How is he?"

"Good," I stiffen, looking down at the shirt in my hands.

"That's good. He seemed like a cool kid, maybe we can all grab a bite to eat or something later?"

"Have you talked to Dad today yet? Told him we're coming?" I change the subject, pulling the shirt over my head bitterly.

"Uh, no. I'll call him right now. Get up. It's already past twelve." He gets up from the bed, obviously not caring too much about James or that subject. "C'mon Kenzie."

* * *

Three hours later we're at the Condor hotel, a hotel a couple minutes off the shore. It's raining outside, so the lobby isn't too full—seeing as no one is coming in and out to get to the beach. I hold Kenzie in one arm while holding my backpack full of baby-necessities up on the other shoulder. Kevin's car keys jingle loudly, hanging lazily from his fingers as we walk across the marble floor—drawing everyone at the concierge desk's attention. We walk past them and into the bar-lounge area, where we agreed to meet our father for lunch.

Kenzie doesn't make a sound the entire way—making me smile, seeing how far she's come since the beginning of the summer where she could never stop crying. We'd both changed so much this summer—why is she the only one who gets to stay changed? Why couldn't I manage to stay the fun, spontaneous and willing Kendall that James turned me into?

I shake the thoughts of James out of my head when I see my father walking towards us in the bar, motioning for us to come with him to a seat by the window. We sit for a while and order our drinks before anyone actually starts talking.

"Hey boys," my father sits back in his chair with a smile.

"Hi dad," we both answer, Kevin smiling while I nod.

"How's the little peanut?" my dad holds out his arms, meaning he wants to hold Kenzie.

"She's good. How are you?" I ask only to be polite, handing the baby over the table.

"I've been better. I really miss you all at the house—how's Mercedes?" I knew he would go straight to her. My dad's pride was the most obnoxious side of him—if he knew how good Mercedes has been without him he'd never come back to the house. He never was one to cave under a woman's pressure, and that's exactly what happened with my mom before he divorced her.

"She's good," Kevin answers this time. "I mean, I haven't been around but…she's really stressing over this Bash thing."

"Oh yeah," my dad laughs heartily, looking up from the baby. "You should have seen her last year—nearly chopped my neck off one night. Said something about this Elaine woman bossing her around…" he sighs after the laughter tapers off. "Has she found a performer yet?"

I swallow when I see Kevin about to answer again, but the waiter interrupts us to hand out the drinks we ordered, setting them down carefully in front of us.

"Thank you," I smile at the waiter, hoping Kevin's ADD chose to kick in and forget about my father's question.

"Actually dad—" Kevin starts, but I quickly cut him off.

"She hasn't found one yet," I look over at Kevin and shoot him a look, hoping he reads it as _"don't tell him, or I'll kick you."_

As expected, he sends a look right back_, "Why? He'll find out eventually."_

"Boys?" we're interrupted. "Do you know what you want?" We both look back at our father, and then to the waiter who's standing at our table with his order pad ready in his hands.

"Oh, yeah," I mumble before we both order and turn back to our dad. As expected, the lunch goes by rather slowly—but we finally stand up after our stomachs are full and my dad charges the bill to his room tab and leave the lounge.

"You three should come see the room—it's got a great view," he leads us over to the elevators, despite the fact that I don't want to go with him. Kevin ignores my _"let's leave, I'm begging you,"_ look, which really pisses me off.

Kenzie starts to stir around in my arms while we jump the floors in the elevator. By the time we get to the room she's crying—so I excuse myself to change her diaper. I must admit, the suite is nice, but it's not as nice as a house—Mercedes' house.

Kevin and my dad are whispering about something when I get back, and as soon as they see me in the room they stop.

"Kendall," my dad takes a step towards me. "Why didn't you tell me _you're_ performing at the Bash?"

"You told him?" I nearly drop Kenzie when I attempt to point at Kevin accusingly, but try to stay calm.

"He would have found out eventually!" Kevin retorts.

My dad ignores the madness before asking, "Does your mother know?" in a quieter tone.

"No, she doesn't. I didn't want you to know either," I won't meet his eyes.

"Why?" My dad seems a little hurt. "I was the one that wanted you to sing—"

"Really? Cause you didn't exactly jump in and save me after mom told me to stop all those years ago," I shake my head, looking down at the baby in my arms who is probably on the verge of a meltdown with all of the shouting going on.

"Kendall I've always supported your decisions," my dad tries to calm me down, and himself. Kevin is watching from a distance with his arms folded and a serious expression on his face—as if he's been waiting for this discussion to happen all his life. "Especially about singing. I've always wanted you to make those decisions on your own and you chose to stop—"

"You didn't want me to make any decisions on my own, you wanted me to go to Elon more than anything else," I almost laugh. So _now_ he tries to be the supportive father.

"I did want you to go to Elon. But I also want you to be happy," he reaches a hand over and rests it on the side of my arm.

Kenzie whimpers, meaning she's tired of the argument.

"What about Kenzie, will you want her to be happy? Or is she not part of your family anymore since you ran out?"

"Kendall," my dad doesn't sound _too_ hurt, but I back down anyways. That was pretty low of me. "I want to be there for all of you, I do. I want to come home to Mercedes and the baby everyday after I work on my collections for the museum, I really do. I just...when's the Bash? I would really love to come see you perform."

"The hell you want to. Will you come home?"

"What's that supposed to mean? Kendall I'd love to come see you sing again you're amazingly talented—"

"Dad," I pick up my backpack only minutes after dropping it and sling it over one arm while holding the baby in the other. "Don't avoid the question! Are you going to come home soon?"

"Kendall…" he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Kevin is watching my dad now—no longer trying to put _me_ on the spot.

"That's okay," I brush past him, mad beyond belief. "I'll go instead." I slam the door behind me after my escape—okay so maybe I'm overreacting. But what _has_ gone right for me in the past two weeks? Almost nothing, except for maybe practicing my performance skills with Carlos and Dak. But that was it.

I press the down button on the elevator—but to my dismay it doesn't light up. So I press it harder again—nothing. I then make a fist and nearly punch it until it lights up and the elevator rings.

"Fuck," I hold myself back from shouting at the pain in my hand when Kenzie and I get into the elevator.

"Kendall!" I hear Kevin running after me. He slams a hand on the elevator door to stop it from closing.

"What? I'm not going back there!"

"I know you're not," to my surprise Kevin gets in with me, not a word said after that. Not a word said through the parking lot, not when we get home either. It's not until we get out of the car, and run through the rain to the front door that he says 'you're welcome' when I thank him for holding the door open.

"My boys are home!" Mercedes comes bursting through the entryway with a huge smile on her face. "And my baby girl," she takes Kenzie from me. "Did you have a nice lunch?"

"Sorta," I rub the back of my neck. "Listen I'm just gonna go straight to work if that's okay—"

"Oh I'm sure we're having a slow day, come here quickly before you go!" she leads us into the kitchen where Laura is standing over the kitchen island, moving around it to draw on a large poster board.

Kevin walks over to her and gives her a kiss on the cheek before looking down at the board.

"Wow, this is—"

"Prom!" Mercedes shouts. "Senior Prom!"

"What?" I'm so confused.

"Prom. The theme is prom. You get a date, dress up like you're going to prom!"

"Oh Mer! That sounds like it's gonna be so fun," Kevin is excited—prom night was one of the best night of his life, "in pictures." What he means by that is: "I was too wasted to actually know what was going on, but it looks like I was having such a good time. The logic is there."

"You two are going to come!" Mercedes is off her rocker, jumping up and down in a giggle fest. "I'm getting everyone here free tickets, of course. Oh my gosh it's going to be so great—"

I tune out after a little bit. I never went to my Senior Prom. Beau technically stood me up—but that was really not an issue at the time, I couldn't care any less. But now thinking about it, Prom could have been one of the best nights of my life, just like Kevin's, but it never happened.

_Should have, could have, and now that I admit it, would have._

* * *

"What do you think, Kendall?" Camille asks from across the booth at Rocque Café.

"Huh?" I look up from my milkshake.

"Of the prom theme?" Carlos nudges me.

"Oh. Right. Well—"

"Wait, you got stood up for prom, didn't you?" he goes wide-eyed.

"Dude, that sucks," Logan pops a couple of french-fries into his mouth. "Camille and I were a beautiful prom couple."

"Yeah, after I made you take off your stupid glasses," Camille rolls her eyes. "You don't even wear them regularly!"

"Hey, I looked hot," Logan retorts.

"I think Jett and I were the most beautiful couple at our prom," Carlos whispers to me while Camille and Logan fight over his glasses. "I'm just going to be completely honest."

"Whatever. At least you're gonna get another shot at prom," Camille points out.

"Yeah, I know," I sigh. "I guess it's just not the same."

"It's not. But hey, Dak's already asked me," Carlos announces.

"It's about time," I groan, followed by some grunts and groans of agreement from Camille and Logan.

"Now I just have to wait for my big ask," Camille elbows Logan in the stomach—and hard at that.

"Ouch," Logan rolls his eyes. "I don't know who I'm gonna ask," he says sarcastically. "Maybe I'll ask someone who appreciates my sexy glasses."

We sit and talk for a while before paying the bill and leave the restaurant.

"So Kendall, I was thinking. You should totally ask the kid that stood you up to _this_ Prom, and then stand _him_ up," Camille grins. "That would be so dramatic!"

"No," Logan laughs. "That would be awful." We all walk down the boardwalk. Logan stops in front of the bike and skate shop, and announces he's going to hang with Dak and Jett for the evening—entering the dark shop and disappearing in the back room where the guys must all be, including James. Camille leaves us as well—claiming she was going to do a late night Bed Bath and Beyond run for dorm stuff. Carlos and I hang around in front of the shop, even though we're both aware of how sad it makes me to be standing here.

"You know, Kendall," Carlos says after a while. "Prom was fun. And I must say you missed out."

"Thanks buddy," I chuckle sarcastically.

"Hear me out," Carlos laughs after realizing how bad his last statement actually sounded. "I think you should find a great date," he nods towards the dark shop. We both know _he's_ in there.

"And with _him_, maybe this time you could do it right."

He doesn't even have to say James' name for me to understand; and only James _could_ make it right.

* * *

"Ready for round two?"

I jump when a voice wakes me up in the office. I look up at Dak sleepily while yawning slowly as he watches me, amused.

"Huh?"

"Carlos wants you to practice your performing again with us tonight or something," Dak lifts up his pointer finger and spins a set of car keys around the finger; the keys to his pickup truck. I nod, collecting and straightening up the papers I fell asleep on about a half hour ago.

"I hear you asked him to this 'prom' bash?" I smirk as I set the papers down and stand up to stretch my arms above my head.

"Yeah," he smiles. "Did you ask James yet?"

My eyes widen as I snap back into a normal standing position.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh come on, you two are totally meant for each other," Dak laughs at my reaction.

"Like you and Carlos," I raise an eyebrow at him.

"I told you we're not like that," Dak rolls his eyes and leans back against the doorway. "We've known each other for sixteen years now. I feel like if we were to start dating now…" he looks down at his feet. "It would just make or break everything, you know?"

"I don't."

I realize I'm being stubborn about this situation, but I know for a fact that Carlos would say yes to Dak—so why wouldn't he try?

"You can't talk! Neither can James. He's always trying to push me into asking Carlos as well, but you two are just as sad and lonely without each other as I am without Carlos," he folds his arms over his chest with a huff.

"See but here's where you can be different," I walk over to him and place both hands on his shoulders, making him look me square in the eyes. "Carlos would say yes to you in an instant. Right now I think if I even talked to James he'd walk away before I got the chance to tell him how I feel."

Dak narrows his eyes at me, as if he's thinking.

"I guess, Knight," he sighs while silently giving in to my pressuring. We hear Carlos laugh from the front of the store before Dak says, "We have to get you some 'practice', come on." I nod and flip the light switch by the door while he moves to leave the office.

"Oh," Dak quickly turns, catching me off guard and causing me to bump into him. "Sorry. Um, I didn't respond to your second statement…"

"Which was?" I'm confused.

"James is seriously in depression mode right now. Like not 'Eric died' depression but, 'I love Kendall so much and we're done' mode," he explains.

"Oh," I look down at my feet.

"Yeah, now…for bikers and skaters, to things like this we just say 'get back on the bike' to fix things you've fucked up, but for you?"

He pauses and looks at me for a moment before continuing.

"Just get back on that stage and get back with James."

* * *

**ANOTHER SHITTY CHAPTER I'M SORRY, we're getting closer to the end though…so, all of the filler chapters with no good or interesting moments…almost done.**

**Thanks for the patience! Please review :D**

**Xx**

**Sarah :)**


	19. Look At the Stars

**Hello my darlings :)**

**I just handed in my term paper the other day…. *****huge sigh of relief* ****I can BREATHE AGAIN.**

**Anyways I know the last chapter may have been a letdown but…please bare with me.**

**As usual thank you to those who reviewed, and of course to those who read as well! You guys are the best, especially: XxxAnimaniacxxX, DeniseDEMD, Teagsiebabe85, Sassy Kames (she makes me feel better after I post a shit chapter), a guest…(WHO ARE YOU, I LOVE YOU), JamesxKendallxKames, and annabellex2. **

**Here you go :) I hope you all like it!**

**PS for later in the chapter I don't own Coldplay or Blink-182 or any of their music…just a fan ;)  
{spoiler alert much?}**

**Chapter 19:**

* * *

I wake up on the morning of Prom day, or D-day for Mercedes. I hear her shuffling around noisily downstairs—hence the fact I'm awake right now. I roll over in bed to look out the window and to the ocean, the only thing that could wash some form of a calm sense over me. But I'm oh-so very wrong when my eyes land on something and nearly pop out of their sockets.

Hanging on the chair next to the window is a tuxedo in a dry cleaning bag—with a crisp white shirt tucked under the black jacket and pants.

"What the—" I hop out of bed to go inspect the outfit, I know for a fact it's not and can't be mine.

There's a pink sticky note sticking on the hanger with some scribbled blue ink on it.

"_Kendall—setting up on the boardwalk, won't be home all day. Have the baby with me. _

_PS: Your father actually used to be just as skinny as you are. Love, Mer"_

I lift up the plastic cover to inspect the suit further with a light smile resting on my lips looking down at the smooth black jacket. Of course my father had clearly grown out of this jacket and pants—right? What with his not-so-little beer belly and all.

"Knock knock!" I jump as Carlos bursts through the door without warning and dances through the room.

"Uhm, come in?" I snort while raising an eyebrow and letting the suit fabric fall through my fingers.

"Mercedes told me to come see if you were awake only cause she said there's too much to do today," Carlos plops down on the end of my bed and watches me awkwardly stand in my boxers. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to try that on for me?" he sits still with an eager smile on his face.

"Why—"

"Just change already. I won't look," he covers his eyes with one hand—the same goofy smile not leaving his face.

I roll my eyes and slide the pants on, surprised that they fit me. And well, might I add. Next comes the white dress shirt, followed by the suit jacket—which also fit my body quite nicely. Overall it takes me quite a bit of time to get everything on and situated.

"Can I peek?" Carlos squeals—about to die of excitement.

"Sure?" I guess, looking at what I can see from the bathroom mirror across the room.

"Wow," Carlos says, looking stunned when I turn to face him. "That looks really good."

"Do you think so?" I walk towards the bathroom so I can see myself a little more clearly. I'm impressed by what I see, _which I guess is a good thing?_

No matter how good it felt to be complimented—to feel good in an outfit, there was something pulling me back.

"What's wrong?" Carlos asks. Apparently my hesitation was showing through a sad facial expression. "Aren't you excited? This is your first prom and prom tuxedo!" Carlos jumps around like he's a teenage fan-girl seeing her favorite celebrity a couple feet away. No matter how excited he could get, it wasn't rubbing off enough on me. There still wasn't something right.

"I don't know," I sigh. How could I explain it? My prom had already fallen short before I could experience it again—especially because I'm _dateless. _"It's just not the _real_ prom I guess. Tonight might be fun, but I can't help but be sad that I missed the _first real_ prom."

"I get it," Carlos shrugs. "But you should just be thankful that you're getting a second chance. Not many people get two tries at things they miss out on the first time around."

Of course my mind goes straight to James and I, all about the relationship we shared. _Will we get a second chance?_ My heart drops in my chest and I swallow heavily, thinking of all the things we did together to try and give me second chances at everything I missed out on.

I nod in response, shaking James out of my head for the moment.

"Come on," Carlos stands up and pokes me in the arm. "There's a lot to do down on the boardwalk."

* * *

By five o'clock I've dealt with eleven people working on the balloon inflation and decorations alone, three people moving speakers around, a DJ asking for his pay ahead of time, and I've pulled my shoulder by moving a cheesy backdrop for picture-taking with Carlos.

"Now you two can go get ready," Mercedes gives me a nod of approval. "Oh wait!" She grabs my arm. "What were you planning on singing tonight?"

_Oh right. I'm singing tonight._

_In front of people._

"It's a surprise," I wink, bullshitting her completely. Of course I have no clue what I'm going to sing yet, I'm kind of hoping I'm dead before I have to get on the stage being set up right now. She cocks her head to the side with a funny look—s_he's totally not buying it._

"Alright," she quirks an eyebrow and turns away, heading back towards the stage to instruct the people holding lights and tiki-torches. "Go get ready. You're not backing out on me tonight."

On my way back I pass the bike shop, trying to avert my eyes from the window to look for a certain boy. The pain in my chest lately has been unbearable for the most part—but I'm still alive I figure. _C'mon Kendall, you can walk by a bike store without going into cardiac arrest._ I stop when I see Dak lining a bunch of boards and bikes up outside the shop.

"Hey bud," Dak nods at me as I walk over—I still will not let my eyes look through that glass window. Dak sets a brand new skateboard down with a sign on it saying "Fly by with style."

"What are these for?" I keep watching him stack the skateboards and hang the signs on them. I'd never been one to skate all that much, but it wasn't like I was bad at it. Never ever in my lifetime reach James' level, though. I continued to watch Dak as he explained that these were the boards and bikes that they would be selling later tonight during the Bash.

I marveled at the finish of one board in particular—it looked perfect. Not only because it was new, but because whoever made it probably had a great love of the art of skateboarding. I suddenly wished I had done a lot more skating when I was younger—instead of all the reading I was forced to do under my mom's supervision.

"Hey," I was hit with a spontaneous thought suddenly. "How much for this one?" I pointed at the same beautiful board I had been so focused on seconds ago.

"Uh, that'd be about eighty-three dollars," Dak sized it up, giving it the same amount of attention I had given it before.

I whipped out my wallet and handed him the hundred dollar bill that my grandma had given me many years ago. "_Buy something that will make you happy, Kenny_," she said. "Keep the change, it can be a donation or something," I mumble.

"Are you sure you want this one?" Dak smirks, bending over and picking it up so he can hand it to me.

"Yeah, why?"

"James crafted it," Dak chuckles as my jaw drops. "You two really do share a brain."

_Well that makes sense. Something beautiful comes from something else even more beautiful._

"I'll see you and Carlos later," I ignore him and set the board down, determined to ride it gracefully all the way back to the house.

"Have fun with that bad boy," he nods towards the skateboard under my left foot.

"I will," I nod before looking up—feeling eyes on me through the store window. "Thanks," I wave before allowing myself one peek at the window to see who was watching me.

And here's the thing.

James is standing there.

Behind the glass.

Looking at me.

I freeze, before the better side of me lifts a hand up and gives a small wave with an accompanying smile. _The little things matter the most, right?_

He lifts a hand and puts it flat against the store window with an even smaller smile in return, making my heart flutter. The moment only lasts a couple seconds, however, before he drops his hand from the glass and turns away without another glance or stare.

_Baby steps, Kendall. Baby steps._

Except apparently my heart wasn't going to let me take those god damn baby steps, not today at least. Instead I was nearly running towards the door to the shop and following James deeper inside. My voice isn't working, so I cant't call out his name to stop him. I grab his arm when I finally reach him, and I freeze as soon as he turns around. He stiffens as well, looking at me with an unreadable expression with a hint of shock.

"Remember when we went out that one night and delivered newspapers?" I randomly let those words out, not even sure where I'm going with this.

"Yeah," James nods, not phased by the random question, or the fact that this is the first time we're talking after multiple weeks.

"Remember how I got kind of frustrated when I couldn't get it right after the first throw?"

"Yes," James clearly isn't following.

"Well, you taught me how second chances work then. You told me to pick up that failed newspaper and try again. Up until this summer, I didn't think that I could make up for anything I'd missed out on. For all of my life, I'd been thinking that you don't get second chances. You only have one shot at anything and everything."

James stays standing in front of me, lips pressed into a straight line as he listens to my random babbling. _God bless him._

"But then I met you. And you taught me that you can always have another try if you really want it. And I did. I made up for so much lost time that I can't even begin to explain how thankful I am."

He nods, urging me to finish.

"James," Jett suddenly peers out from the back door of the shop, leading out to a loading area. "We have to go man. Train's leaving in ten."

"Give me a sec," James tells him, turning back back to me.

"Anyways, as soon as we became…us, it was my first time being in a real relationship. Like, one where I felt things. Love, you know. That stuff. I loved you. I mean, I still do but—"

"James," Jett nearly hissed, giving me an evil glare.

"Give me a fucking second Jett," James tells him again.

"Anyways as soon as things got rough, you know with me fucking up and everything with Beau, I just automatically assumed we were done for; I had failed. So I pulled away, I thought I had fucked up my one chance. Which is true. So I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry," I shake my head and look at my feet on the floor. "I'm so sorry, please give me a second chance."

I don't wait for an answer, I'm a man on a mission. I don't even deserve his forgiveness, if he even understands that's what I'm asking for.

"So anyways, do you wanna," I pause to collect the words on my tongue, the skateboard tucked under my right arm seemingly weighing me down. "Would you maybe like to go to prom with me?"

I hear a sharp intake of breath from him—but I can't exactly see his facial expression because my vision is blurring from all sorts of emotions combined. When I can see clearly again, his eyes are filled with regret and he's shaking his head.

"Kendall I'm sorry, I can't," he continues to shake his head. "So…have fun though."

"James, come on," Jett is almost running towards him, and before I know it he's being pulled away from me until he's out of the back door and gone.

"Okay," I mumble to no one in particular before leaving the shop and starting the journey on my new skateboard home.

* * *

"Jonathan," I hear Mercedes arguing with my father over the phone out of the open back door when I finally get back to the house an hour before the Bash starts. "You said you could do this for me, just one night."

"I'm home," I announce—Mercedes had apparently beaten me home during the time I was in the bike shop talking to James.

She gives me the 'one second' hand signal and continues to listen to the man on the phone.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to find anyone on such short notice," she puts a hand over her eyes and exhales deeply. "Fine. Fine, go have your meeting." With that she hangs up and shakes her head.

"I don't know what I'm going to do about your father, Kendall."

"Don't do anything. He won't change," I say dully.

"Why aren't you getting ready dear?" She asks, cutting to the chase about how I'm not dressed for a Prom event, not even remotely ready to leave the house for the night.

"I will," I sigh.

"Something wrong?"

"No," I lie. "What can't dad do tonight for you?"

"Oh," Mercedes closes her eyes and leans her head back out of frustration. "He backed out of watching Kenzie for the night. I guess that means I'll just have to—"

The sound of the doorbell ringing cuts Mercedes off.

"I'll get it," I run to the door and open it to find my mother. "Mom?"

"Hi, Kendall," she looks me up and down. "May I come in?"

"Oh, uh, yeah." It takes me a couple seconds to realize I have to move away from the doorway for her to be able to come in.

"Mercedes," I lead my mom into the kitchen. "We have a visitor," as much as it shocked me to say.

"Oh? Who—" Mercedes is stricken with apparent fear upon seeing my mom. "Jen!"—a delayed greeting.

"Hi Mercedes," my mother says with what looks to be like a semi-genuine smile. "How is everyone?"

"Good, we're good. Yeah, all good," Mercedes smiles back, warming up instantly as she often does. "Can I offer you any coffee? Tea? Anything? I'm sorry it's a mess around here we've just been preparing so much for this event tonight and we need to find a babysitter—"

"I'll watch the baby," my mom volunteers. "You go get ready, I just need to talk to Kendall before he leaves tonight...that's what I came for."

I try to hide the disappointed look I have on my face when she says she wants to talk.

"Oh Jen, thank you!" Mercedes almost cries of happiness. She moves in for a hug, but then stops herself. Everybody knows my mom doesn't do real hugs. Mom just nods with that same semi-genuine smile. Mercedes then leaves us alone, where I shift around uncomfortably under my mom's gaze.

"So, have you really been good?" she asks, looking concerned. "The last time we talked on the phone you sounded…kind of brokenhearted. And that was more than a week ago, so I got worried and came up here. Call it a mother's instinct if you want to."

"I just had a long day I think," I lie. "I've been keeping busy," I avert my eyes from hers, I swear this woman could read me like a gossip magazine.

"Well...all of this distance we've put between ourselves...starting from that time we talked about the dorm room situation and we disagreed with each other…I guess we've just never disagreed and I felt…disconnected. Being away from you all summer has actually left me lonely."

"Just because we don't see eye to eye all the time doesn't mean we won't agree on other things mom, we'll always be close. Even while I'm at school. I promise." I reassure her and step in for one of those awkward hugs I mentioned before. "I've got to go get ready now, it's not possible for me to back out of this tonight. Are you sure you'll be okay with the baby?"

"Honey I raised you _and_ your _brother_. I'll be fine. Be great out there for me."

"Good point," I laugh. "I'll be right back down."

In another fifteen minutes I'm all dressed up in my dad's old tuxedo, and standing at the door as my mom takes an embarrassing amount of time to marvel over how 'handsome I look'. Mercedes tells me to go ahead of her after she debriefs my mom on how to take care of Kenzie properly, and how to handle all of the freak-outs that might occur.

And then I get to Prom.

The Bash.

It's everything, or most of everything that I thought it would be.

Lights hung everywhere, couples walking around together looking beautiful, older people looking at all of the sales going on in the stores, everything with the waves crashing on the beach a perfect background noise for everything going on up here on the boardwalk.

"Kendall!" I hear a familiar friendly voice before I'm being attacked from behind. "How'sa goin?" Carlos and Logan are giving me loose hugs and high fives all around, with slurred speech. _Well I guess that means they're drunk._

"Did you guys actually pregame for this?" I chuckle, watching them make fools out of themselves. They _would_ drink before their second prom.

"Hey, this' our sec'd prom. 'M allowed to try something different," Carlos giggles. "Did you ask James to come? Is he here? Where is he? You guys're sooo cute together."

"He uh, he said no when I asked him," I tell Carlos, whose facial expression drops immediately.

"Why," he looks as if he's about to cry. Drunk people are more emotional, like that. "Why did he say no?"

"I don't know," I sigh. "He kind of just left. It's okay. I was heartbroken before, it's not like it could hurt any worse."

"Aww, I'm sowwy Kendall," Carlos pouts and goes in for a hug. Logan pats my shoulder before turning to a friend who just called his attention.

"It's okay Carlos," I chuckle. "I have to get ready to go on stage soon. What do you think I should sing?"

"You don't know what you're gonna sing yet?"

"Uh…no? I kind of got distracted," I scratch the back of my neck. "James distracted me, more so."

"Just sing what comes to mind when you get up there," Carlos says sincerely past his alcohol infested brain. "Sing as if James is watching you."

"Kendall," Mercedes calls my name out as she shuffles over, picking up the front of her dress so she doesn't step on it. "Are you ready to go? Five minutes 'til you're on!" She grabs my hand before I can say anything to Carlos.

"Mercedes I don't know if I can—" I suddenly get hit with those nerves I'm so used to. Sure I practiced getting over my stage fright issues, but this is seriously and quickly becoming an issue again.

"Sure you can," she laughs heartily. "Have fun up there," she smiles. "I'll be cheering you on!" She points towards my guitar case which is conveniently sitting on the middle of the stage.

The DJ's music stops as soon as I'm ready and in front of the microphone, the rest of the band that Mercedes hired waiting for me to make a call on what song we should perform for everyone. I look out over the sea of people in front of me while the band gets ready to perform. There's got to be at least a hundred in front of me—but not one of them has hazel eyes or perfect hair that falls down over those perfect eyes. The eyes that I could see the stars shining in just for me—_wait a second Kendall._

I was reminded of a song lyric when I thought about those stars in James' eyes.

"What's the call?" The bassist asks as soon as they're all plugged in and ready to go.

"I want to do _Yellow_, by Coldplay," I decide.

"Alright," the band nods in agreement.

"Hey everybody," I almost squeak into the microphone before I contain myself. "I'm Kendall," I smile.

"Yeah Kendall!" I hear Carlos, Logan, Dak and Camille in the back of the crowd. Thank god they exist.

"Thank you all for coming tonight."

_Super lame intro, Kendall._

"We're going to start off with a favorite song of mine, I hope you enjoy it," I strum out a couple of chords on my guitar and we're off—the band and I.

"_Look at the stars, look how they shine for you,_" I sing into the microphone, trying my hardest not to throw up on the people closest to the stage. "_And everything you do…Yeah they were all yellow_."

It takes me a while to get into the swing of singing for so many people—clearly just having Carlos and Dak with Camille and Logan occasionally as a crowd for practice wasn't preparing me enough for this, but by the last verse and chorus I was doing just fine. I might even say I was relaxed, in my natural element if I hadn't known any better.

"It's true, look how they shine for you…" I sing the end of the song into the microphone, my eyes scanning through the crowds, but with no luck of finding James. "Look at the stars, look how they shine for you… and everything that you do…" I sing out the last line before everyone is cheering for me and the band—praising me for _singing; _something I thought would never happen to me.

"Thank you," I can't help but give in to the pressure to smile, to be genuinely happy for once.

"Hey, Knight," the other guitarist claps a hand on my shoulder. "Let's do a Blink-182 song."

"Alright," I nod. "How about I Miss You?"

"Sure," everyone nods. Next thing I know the drummer is playing, and I have to get ready for my intro—ready or not.

_"Hello there…the angel from my nightmare…"_ those first words have always haunted me, but tonight they mean a whole different thing as I sing for these hundreds of expectant people. It couldn't matter any less how many people are here to listen to me right now, I just want one person here to hear me.

It took me a while to finally recognize that person—that over six foot tall tan brunette with killer eyes and an amazing personality, standing only twenty feet away from the stage.

In fact, it takes me most of the song to process that James is here.

He's actually here.

Watching me.

Smiling, swaying, looking absolutely gorgeous, being _happy_.

_"Don't waste your time on me, I'm already the voice inside your head…I miss you,"_ I sing out, eyes locked on him and him only.

It's hard to tell what he mouths out next because of the lights set on me, but I could swear that he just said _"I love you Kendall."_

The whole world around me stops, while the music plays on. I keep singing of course, because I have to finish. I know I don't and won't get a second chance at this—so I try not to fuck up while I smile like a maniac and finish the song.

"Thank you so much," I breathe out into the microphone, I can't get the words out fast enough. "Enjoy the rest of your night !" With that I pretty much throw my guitar into its case and lose myself into the crowd.

"Kendall! You were amazing!" I get compliments from a couple of people that I recognize. I mutter thank you's and give smiles to be polite, but I couldn't care less about what they had to say. I only had one person I had to find and talk to.

"Kendall! Wait up!" Carlos throws an arm around my neck. "You were so great! I told you you could do it!"

"Did you see him?" I ignore his kind words.

"Who?"

"James! He was here! I saw him! He said he loved me from the crowd!" I'm shaking with anxiety. _I need to find him_.

"I didn't see him. I thought he was in—"

I shut out everything he's saying as I look over the people in the crowds, looking for that tall motherfucker.

I couldn't have been hallucinating. _He was there! I saw him_.

"James, please," I say to myself after I'm out of the back of the crowd, away from Carlos and everybody, the words barely audible over the crowd and music.

"Please what?" I turn to see who I was looking for all this time, and I nearly start crying.

"James," it's only a split second before he leans down and connects our lips hard and passionately.

"I love you," I say in between gasps for air and the heavy lip-locking going on at the moment. "So much."

"I love you too," James smiles when he pulls away. "Can we talk somewhere quiet?" he asks.

Ten minutes later we're sitting on the same bench Beau kissed me on a couple of weeks ago, except this time I'm comfortable. I'm finally at ease, feeling right with life.

"I should have explained earlier, I was being such a dick," James holds my hand tight in his. "I was competing tonight. I entered a skating competition, for you actually," he blushes and looks down at our hands intertwined on his lap.

"And?" I ask, eager for the results.

"I won," he shrugs. "And I'm officially retired from competitive skating."

"What?"

"Yeah, I've decided to retire from skating. You know, just wanted to end it while I'm on top."

"What are you going to do now?" I'm amazed.

"I'm enrolling at the U for this fall, going by the original plan I had before Eric died, minus the sponsorship."

"Wow," I smile. "That's awesome, James. I'm so proud!" I'm so busy smiling at him that I forget my initial confusion. "But that doesn't explain why you came back…"

"Oh, right. Well when I got back to my apartment after the competition I realized that this prom thing was still going, so I got a tux on and Mercedes let me in for free," he leans in to kiss me, as if to make sure I'm still here and this is all really happening. "Then seeing you on that stage made me realize that I was being so stupid all this time. I should have just taken you back when you came to the shop this afternoon."

"It's not your fault, I was the stupid one from the beginning," I lean in to press my forehead against his and close my eyes.

"We're both stupid," James chuckles and stands up, pulling me with him. "But you look really hot in a tuxedo, Kenny."

"You too, Jamie, you should consider modeling," I joke with him. We start walking back towards my one and only prom, which I guess didn't turn out so bad after all.

_Who am I kidding?_ This was _probably_ one of the best nights of my life.

"Let me just get through the first semester of college first," he jokes back.

"You'll be great, James Diamond. With whatever you do," I say sincerely, looking into those eyes. We don't make it another step before I lean in for yet another kiss, where he meets me halfway.

"I love you so much," he whispers.

"I love you too. And thank you for everything," I whisper back in between our slow and compassion-filled kisses.

"Hey!" we pull apart when we hear some familiar voices. Carlos, Logan, Dak, Camille and a couple others are standing a few feet away with goofy grins on their faces. "Our first prom after-party, you guys game?" Dak asks with Carlos holding on to his arm.

"What do you say?" James turns to me, grinning.

"I say," I look at my group of friends before looking at James. "At this point I'm just along for the ride."

* * *

**Well?**

**This was technically the last chapter, but expect an epilogue.**

**Please review!**

**I'm sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes!**

**Xx**

**Sarah**


	20. Epilogue

**[I want to give a big thanks to everyone, before I can go on. EVERYONE. Everyone who read this, reviewed this, alerted and favorited it. This story was so fun to throw the Big Time Rush crew in, as much as the topsy-turvy drama killed some of you. I'm not going to list all of you reviewers for the last chapter this time, because you know who you all are and you all have a place in my heart. Also, I still recommend Along for the Ride by Sarah Dessen. You might not like the fact that there's no Kames love in there, but you'll love it for everything else, I promise. ****Thank you all so much. On that note, PLEASE ENJOY the last installment of Along for the Rush.**]

**Epilogue:**

* * *

The coffee at Elon is not as good as it was at Gustavo's secret pie and coffee shop in the back of a Laundromat—but it's something I've gotten used to over the past few months, especially when my meal card covers it and the free refills.

I pop a lid on my jumbo to-go cup, and I make my way out to the greens in the center of the campus with my skateboard tucked under my arm. I set it down and carefully ride through the campus to what I now call home. When I stop at the building door it's starting to drizzle—that cold, gross, November rain.

"I'm home," I sing out as soon as I slip inside the door.

"Hey buddy," Carlos calls out from the top floor of our loft.

So, the last few days of Summer spent in Colby were bittersweet. I had made a new life there: new friends, new family and a new _me_.

I'd gotten all of my goodbyes in, promised Mercedes that I'd be back soon enough, and it had been compromised between two families that I'd be visiting one every other holiday or break—with the exception of Christmas which was reserved for my mother. Moving into a new college life wasn't hard at all; not with my best friend Carlos by my side.

"Your phone has been ringing, quite a couple times actually," Carlos tells me as I set my coffee down on my bedside table.

"Thanks," I say. "It's getting way too cold out there, when will summer come back?" I ask as I shed my jacket and throw it at the end of my bed before flopping down with my phone.

"Didn't you used to hate summer?" Carlos teases, his eyes not leaving his Econ 101 textbook, over on his bed across from me.

"I'm giving it another chance," I laugh. I pick up my phone and scroll through my missed calls on my phone screen, two of which are from my mother.

Oh, and did I mention? Mom is dating again. Can you believe it? She's now with a grad-student who made sure to spend extra time in the classroom after her summer course sessions and ask 'the great and inspirational Mrs. Knight' questions, which only lead to him stealing her heart away for keeps. He's a great guy, I promise—no matter how many years my mom has on top of him.

What else is there to say? Oh, right. My dad returned home to Mercedes by the time I left, willing to give their couple-hood another shot. He finally got his damn priorities straight at the airport—right on the night of the Bash. He chose to miss his flight and come back home, and apparently seeing my mom pacing in the living room with _his _daughter in _her_ arms was enough of a wakeup call for him to try parenting out again.

That night he paid for my mom to stay at the Condor hotel while he waited at home with the baby for Mercedes. When she got home, heels in hand and post-bash jitters running through her body, she couldn't have ever been more shocked than she was then when she saw my father sitting in the living room with a sleeping Kenzie in his arms.

Mercedes is working half-time now at Inlet-Outlet surf shop, and my dad dropped a class at the U so he can be home for the baby while she is at work. Then when he has to go for a class, she comes home. The other times Kenzie is with Brooke Diamond, who claims to this day 'she could always use a bit of Kenzie time'.

I call my mom back and have a lengthy conversation while Carlos gets ready to leave the house while I reassure my mom that the short hour drive back to Colby will be safe and successful for Carlos and I, for our return for Thanksgiving Break.

"Ready to go?" Carlos asks after I finally get to hang up on my mom and pull my jacket on. I pick up my bag packed for the next two weeks hanging on my bedpost—I'm ready for some much-needed winter-y beach relaxation.

"Sure," I nod, smiling at my roommate and best friend. I guess the thankfulness that we shared about being able to room with each other and have everything work out for us was just one of the many things that went _unsaid_—it's true that best friends can read each other's minds, isn't it?

"By the way," Carlos calls from our kitchen area while I'm picking some textbooks up to bring with me. "Dak sent us our very own staff T-shirts for the store, as a grand-opening gift. It's hanging on your chair."

Sure enough as I look down to the chair that's tucked underneath my desk there's an ocean-blue T-shirt hanging on the back of the chair.

"Looks great," I smile as I unfold it, beaming at the new chosen name for the bike and skate shop displayed across the chest of the shirt.

"Doesn't it?" Carlos comes up from behind and looks over my shoulder at the T-shirt I'm holding out in front of me.

"Eric's Bikes and Boards" I grin, loving the sound of the name. It still gives me chills, ever since I was told about it right before I left for school at the end of summer. After a few more moments of admiring the T-shirt, Carlos starts to get impatient.

"Can we go soon? I don't want Dak to be upset with me if I'm late," Carlos worries.

"Yeah yeah, we'll go," I usher him to the doorway with our packed bags, make sure all of the lights are off and then I make sure to lock the door behind us.

"So what time are you meeting the impatient _boyfriend_?" I tease Carlos as we make our way to the student-parking garage across the street from our loft, bags for the Thanksgiving slung over our shoulders. We hunch ourselves over to protect our faces from the rain falling heavily now until we're under the onning of the garage.

"As soon as I drop you off," he chuckles. "Why?"

"Just wondering," I shrug. "Where are you guys going?"

"He won't tell me…Like come on, it's only our four month anniversary and he's already taking things way too seriously, especially surprises," he rolls his eyes playfully. Carlos _does _love Dak, even though he rarely admits it out loud.

An hour later we're cruising down the interstate in the rain, and we can finally see the familiar 'Colby' exit. We pull off the road and head down an even more familiar street—a couple streets away from Main Street in Colby.

"Here we are," Carlos pulls into a familiar parking lot—a dingy little diner with "watery coffee and coffee-tasting water; a lose-lose situation" as I remember once describing it. But this time? It didn't look so bad—it looked like the place where my new life started. "I'll see you later, okay?" I nod and get out of the car, runnin through the rain with my hoodie pulled tight over my head for coverage. I wipe my squeaky and wet sneakers off on the doormat right inside the door and walk deeper into the diner, letting the warmth smooth out the goosebumps the crisp November air formed on my arms and legs under all of the layers I'm wearing.

I sigh with a smile on my face as the waitresses all smile at me as I pass by, headed for my final destination for the night. Or who knows? Maybe I'll end up somewhere totally unexpected, but at the moment I'm fine with that, because I know exactly who I'll be with the entire time.

He's sitting in our favorite booth—the one next to the window and isn't far from the back of the diner, so the cold air that comes in with the opening door doesn't affect us when we're sitting there. He's slouched over the table, working hard out of the multiple spread out textbooks on businesses and management from the U, which makes me smile. Before I get to the booth I hear an audible sigh leave his mouth before he drops his pencil in front of him and leans back so he can rub the back of his neck.

I surprise him by placing my hands over his own on his neck and rub the area _for_ him, after feeling him jump under the cold touch of my hands.

"Hi love," James doesn't question who it is and turns around on the bench seat to look at me with those hazel eyes—have I ever mentioned those to you before?

"Hi babe," I respond before leaning down for a kiss—a kiss of reunitement. We did this only two weeks ago; met up. But those two weeks could have been two years for all I know. His lips move slowly and smoothly against mine, the perfect combination of any kiss I've ever received in my life. I pull away and he pouts before I point to his textbooks.

James decided to double his classes in the fall because of the full year he missed last year. I like to call it, as everybody knows, making up for his lost time in school. James found that getting back to school was hard at first, the stress way too overbearing for him that some of it rubbed off on me.

I couldn't count how many nights of the first month of school I spent _all_ night talking him through things on the phone, all the way from the bigger and difficult things like accounting and money management to the simpler things, like taking deep breaths and a nice long break to clear his brain.

"Keep working, I'm here for a whole two weeks reserved for you just to kiss and smother me and do whatever else you please," I ignore his adorable pout and chuckle as I take my jacket off and throw it on the bench opposite of him.

That promise being enough for him, James lights up with a grin and picks up his pencil again and starts to get back into his work. I sit down across from him and a waitress comes over to get me a drink. This time around I play it safe and order a hot chocolate, not sure if I'm willing to give the coffee another chance. She leaves us alone and I watch my beautiful boyfriend do his work for a little bit.

The waitress comes back with a hot chocolate for me, and refills James' coffee while he continues to work. All while this is happening I feel a warm hand rest on my leg under the table, which eventually leads to a bunch of legs brushing sweetly and lovingly against each other. Sort of like footsie I guess, but…you know. Not really.

After my legs are satisfyingly tangled up with James', I pick up my mug and take a sip of the chocolatey warmth, watching James scrunch up his face at a difficult math problem. I smile to myself and stifle a giggle before I lean back against the back of the booth and look out the window to the rainy night.

Morning _will_ come soon, as it always did when I was with James. Everything with him makes time go faster, like we need to do _everything_ we could together before it ran out. But right here and right now, James and I are together in this small diner ten minutes away from the messy half of my family in Colby, and an hour away from the other even messier half of it.

For now, James and I still have the night together—as we always do.

That's all that matters, so I close my eyes with a smile and let it all sink in.

* * *

**Along for the Rush.**

**Xx**

**Sarah :)**


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